2010 wrap-up

What a strange year. I went from working at a job I hated (and a boss who was evil incarnate) to working for a company I love. I went from running 500 miles and a couple of races to running 450 miles and 10 races. Weird!

This year should have been a high mileage year -- between the two marathons and the nine half marathons, you'd think I would have run lots of miles. But somehow I didn't -- despite all the events, I actually ran fewer miles this year than last year. Of course, the fact that I didn't run A STEP between the Seattle half on 11/28 and the end of the year certainly helped that...

That said, it was a great year. I enjoyed the races I ran -- even the soaking wet "Scenic" half in Sand Point. And we survived a Goofy Challenge. (In fact, we've been feeling a little bit mopey that we're not on our way to Florida in a week or so!)

So 2011....

I would like to run at least 500 miles this year. I would also like to keep running half marathons -- get a few more states under my shoes. I know we'll run a half in Alaska, but perhaps also Louisiana, Montana, Nevada... and??? Then, of course, there's the "fun" goal. I want to run fun races -- Bloomsday, Bay to Breakers, BBFR... just to remember the fun of running.




'

Seattle Half Marathon Report, 11-28-10

Wasn't sure what to expect from the Seattle Half Marathon -- would I see anyone I knew? Would the weather hold? Would I finish at all? But I had a little breakfast and drove to lower Queen Anne in the dark. Got lucky -- found street parking just a couple of blocks from the Seattle Center, and walked towards the start.

Of course, upon getting out of the car I realized the following: 1. I had forgotten my sunglasses, 2. I had forgotten my rain shell. Oh well. So much for being prepared...

Got to the starting line with only 15 minutes to spare -- kinda awesome -- just in time to hear the national anthem sung and watch the marathon walkers head out. It was difficult to hear because one of the speakers cut out, but after the walkers left, a bunch of us climbed over the barriers and into the starting chute. The start was on 5th, at a point where there's a big foliage median, so most people just stuck on the near side. That seemed silly, so I and a handful of others climbed carefully through the bushes and onto the opposite side of the street. There I lounged in relative comfort, peeling off layers of "disposable" warm clothing and watching people on the other side crammed together. Very, very weird.

A few minutes more and a different patriotic song was sung for good measure, and the gun fired. Guess it's time to start running... Moved forward, started my watch, and took off down 5th Avenue.

The road was surprisingly uncrowded -- in part because people hadn't really spread out the width of the road -- and completely devoid of spectators. EMPTY. It was eerie -- felt a bit like a low-budget horror film, with everyone running down a city street away from some monster.

We ran up to the crest of 5th and then down down down through the International District and on to the I-90 bus lanes. Right before the lane something really odd happened. About 50 feet ahead of me a man suddenly fell. He got up, shaken, and kept running. The minute he was up, someone else fell in almost the same spot. Again, she recovered, got up, and then another person fell. It was if a poltergeist was sitting there tripping people. Kinda funny... even if I did approach the area thinking "Oh, please, don't pick on me..."

Ran out and into the dreaded tunnel -- much more pleasant without a shrieking band playing, I must admit. Or maybe just more pleasant because it happened to be the beginning of the race, rather than the end!

At the end of the tunnel we halfers turned down the windy little path and onto Lake Washington Boulevard, while the fullers ran an out and back on the bridge, and then an out and back around Seward Park. I liked the pleasant run along the boulevard, noticing that the big portable storage pods had blossomed into water stops. It was also nice to run along the same route for a while -- made me feel good and confident for a few miles.

After Leschi we continued on, passing the Ghost turnaround and starting to head up the hill. Just after the sharp turn up Galer (oof. hill.), some charming ladies were handing out tiny Dixie cups of beer. Who am I to turn down a sip of simple carbohydrates? Was surprised to find that the beer actually tasted good. Or maybe I was just relieved after too many cups of Gatorade...

Another turn, another hill -- this one Madison. I felt strangely turned around -- not realizing until we had headed back down and into Madison Valley where we were. We turned into the Arboretum for the pleasantest stretch of the course -- lovely winding streets, glorious trees, and autumn leaves.

It was about this point that I first ran into "the mom". The first thing I noticed was her "Ironman Idaho Finisher" shirt. Hey, you finish an Ironman, you should wear the gear. Heck, wear your freakin' medal. I'm all over it. Then I noticed that she was running with a little girl... like, 10? She was also running with a teenage boy. At first I was totally impressed -- the little girl was still running strong. But we spent the next mile or so near each other and I heard them talking. I don't want to badmouth anyone's parenting skills, etc. etc., but wow. I guess everyone has seen or heard of stage moms, and overzealous parents in the bleachers at little league games, so why does it surprise me that the same thing exists in running? But hearing a child say "Oh, mile 9, that means we still have 4 to go...", and having the mom reply, "Just stop thinking about it. It's not that far, and we're not going fast." I hope the little girl continues to want to run and to enjoy running despite it all.

Anyway, was relieved to leave them behind and continue on. Again, the course was fantastic -- all autumn leaves and quiet. Then suddenly we popped out the other side and ran toward a the Roanoke freeway overpass.

I started to feel pretty beat at this point. Not exhausted, but pretty close to empty. It was strange to see the Space Needle so far away still. But I plodded along, noting with pleasure that those concrete sound barriers next to the freeway work remarkably well...

Then down under the freeway again, past the former site of the leaning townhouse (anyone else remember that?) and then back across I-5 again. That suddenly made it feel as if we were almost done, so I got a spring in my step again. We turned down toward the Center, and over onto Mercer for that last down and up underpass. Lots of honking cars, which was nice. (Finally some support!) Then another couple of blocks up Mercer and over into the stadium. Fun to finish on the field turf. I suddenly realized I had been pretty much coasting for the last mile and decided to try to finish a little stronger -- clearly I had left something in the tank. Finished in 2:42:21 -- not my slowest, but one of my slowest. Still, it was faster than my time for the Ghost, so I'd achieved the basic goal.

After crossing the line I got my medal (very pretty brushed silvery thing), gave up my timing anklet (weird!), and picked up a space blanket from a pile. Wasn't quite sure where to go next -- but joined the zombie throng heading toward the exhibition hall. Out of the corner of my eye I saw some bottles of water, so went over and grabbed one, figuring that the rest of the water would be in the much touted "recovery area".

Made my way into the crowded, noisy hall, and felt immediately overwhelmed. Lots of people, lots of lines, but no apparent food or drink. No, that's not true -- I saw some fruit cups surrounded by a throng. Weird. Part of the problem was that the food and drink were in the same building as the reunion area -- making it nearly impossible to navigate. I considered joining a line in case it led to a bagel or a banana, but then realized I was a 5-minute walk from the car and a 10-minute drive from home. So I wove through the crowd and out the door and was soon home.

Overall the race was nice, though I missed the crowds of NYC and the music of RnR. But the course was pretty, the hills were manageable, and the scene in general was laid back. But the finish line was chaotic, the post-race food and water situation was a nightmare, and I doubt I'll run it again. Still, my main goal was to finish a double and move up to 4 Moon status in the Half Fanatics. Result!


Marathon Course Map

Seattle Ghost Half Marathon Race Report, 11-27-10

We had that snow just before Thanksgiving, and it wasn't really until Thursday afternoon when our street felt safe enough to drive on... so I had been wondering if I would be able to get to my races -- let alone complete them. But on Friday night I laid out my running gear, set an alarm, and decided to stop worrying.

My race plan was simple -- meet a few of my fellow fanatics, finish the race, and save my legs for Sunday.

Arrived in the area at about 7:35 for an 8am start. Since it was bitterly cold, I decided to just wait in my car. At about 7:45 I headed across the street to the park and joined the queue of folks checking in -- and registering. Got my number -- 22 -- and said how nice it was to race my age. Snort.

We huddled around for a while -- chatting with other runners, a few fanatics, and eyeing the posse of maniacs, many (most?) of whom had already run two marathons in two days and were hungry for more. I think we had about 200 - 250 folks at the start.

The race director (Chuck? Scott?) explained the course -- and the turnaround at the far end, and then we were off. I settled in with a group of people who were moving about my pace, slow and steady. We were quite bunched up, but the path was pretty wide and even so it wasn't any trouble. We ran down to Seward Park and then around the edge before heading back toward the start line. At some point on the way to the park a man pushing a double-wide running stroller sped past us. I overheard a woman near me say "Well, that's sure a slice of humble pie!" and we all laughed.

Then the course pretty much followed the lake all the way -- moving up the hill and back down to Leschi, of course. There was an aid station at mile 9 (?) near Leschi, which had great treats. Who doesn't love pretzels and gummi bears in the middle of a run?

I had been feeling pretty good at this point -- running my standard 5:1s, walking the two small hills, and otherwise just humming along. The morning was cold but otherwise okay -- in fact, I started the race wearing a warm vest but left it back at the start when we passed through. I had passed a few people on the way out, most notably a group of teenagers who showed up that morning with their dads, sure that if their dads could run a marathon, they could knock one out too. Awesome!

Got to the turnaround and forced myself to follow my race plan -- even though it made my ego a little sad. It was hard to let people run past me -- not that I'm competitive, really, but I sorta wanted to say "I'm saving my legs for tomorrow!" Which is absurd, because people pass me all the time. ;)

But the sky had brightened, I had good tunes on my iPod, so I just enjoyed a brisk walk back to the starting line.... almost.

See, when I got about half a mile from the finish, I saw the group of teenagers, strung out in a straggly line heading in. I had passed them early on in the race, but they must have passed me at some point during my walk (though I didn't see them). Somehow I had caught back up with them, and it was clear that they were hurting. (And also apparent that they would be doing the half instead of the full...). I decided to test my legs a bit, and started to run again. And ended up reeling them in one at a time. So absurdly satisfying... even if it was a bit childish. (That said, when they came close to being "chicked" by three women wearing tutus, the boys sprinted in as best they could as well...)

After the race a few of us stood around chatting and nibbling on crackers and treats at the finish line... until we were told that the REAL post-race food was up in the parking lot. A very impressive spread -- chicken noodle soup, vegetarian chili, hot dogs, sodas, juice, beer, and plenty of other treats. But I knew I had a lunch date with Wil so I had a soda, some pretzels, and headed home.

The Ghost was fun -- and if I was looking for a supported run around that time of year, I'd choose it over the Seattle Half... a race with 250 folks is just so much more civilized! (Even if I did occasionally worry if I would come in last...) I do wish that there had been shirts, or medals, but the race helps the RD with a charitable donation, so I'm all for that.

Completing the Ghost marked my 8th half marathon of the year -- bumping me up from one moon to two in my fanatics standings... so far, so good!

The double -- yes, I know what you're thinking...

So I got a little nutty. A couple of months ago on the Half Fanatics bulletin board someone posted the a message with the headline "THANKSGIVING WEEKEND QUAD IN SEATTLE!!!"

It was like a car wreck -- I couldn't NOT read it. And then start daydreaming about it. Four half marathons in four days? Insane! But interesting!

Fortunately, probably, the race director of the third race decided not to offer a half marathon option (despite being a loop course...) -- so I put it from my mind.

But I did keep thinking about doing a double: the Ghost of Seattle on Saturday, and the Seattle Half on Sunday.

Would I be ready to run 13.1 3 weeks after the NYC Marathon? And another 13.1 the day after that? I wasn't sure. So I printed out the application for the Ghost, and filled out the application for the Seattle Half, and pondered.

We came home from NYC and I felt okay within a few days... so I decided to just go for it. Why not?

Registered on the last possible day for the Seattle Half... the day after I sent in my check for the Ghost. Crazy...

Thanksgiving

Snowstorm on Monday -- and the resulting 4+ hour commute -- made me extra glad for the snow day on Tuesday... and hesitant to drive into the office on Wednesday. More snow Wednesday night meant I wasn't super keen on braving the roads for our family get together for Thanksgiving / Charley's birthday. Instead, we hunkered down, watched Glee, and had a little feast of our own. Very cozy.

Busy weekend coming up -- the Ghost of Seattle Half on Saturday morning, and the Seattle Half on Sunday. These races are really just aimed at checking boxes -- the Ghost will be my 8th half marathon of the year, which would earn me my second moon. But if I finish both races, I'll be promoted to 4 moons. Not fast, just quietly moving along. Weather permitting, of course...

NYC Marathon Race Report

We had unfortunately been assigned to the "Green" course.... which meant that we didn't get to run across the top of the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge... you know, the famous picture of the masses of runners streaming across it? Well, we were on the lower deck. Bummer.

So we started the race with the biggest hill of the race -- up up up to the apex of the big bridge. I remembered sailing under it on the QE2 years ago, so I knew how high it must have been. As it was just past the start, things were pretty crowded so we just kept moving. The wind at that altitude was very strong, too -- making the bridge the single coldest point of the race. We may have actually been better off on the lower deck... then again, we didn't have the sunshine.

But soon we were on the downhill slope, and saying farewell to Staten Island... how nice to get one borough completed so quickly! On into Brooklyn, where we ran on an expressway for a while, before winding our way up to 4th avenue. The whole way we were greeted by cheering crowds, but 4th avenue was special. Tons of kids -- which led to lots and lots of high-fiving -- and plenty of music and dancing. By this point I was warm and loose and feeling surprisingly good for not having run a step in 4 weeks.

At one point we met up with a woman called Lizzie, visiting from Ireland to run her tenth NYC Marathon. We chatted with her for a while and she asked if she could run with us because she wanted to finish in 5:30. Of course, we had no idea what we were planning on -- and apparently at that point were well ahead of a 5:30 pace -- so we went our separate ways. On we went, at one point passing a band that looked suspiciously like Blues Traveler (who were also playing a show that night). But who knows?

I will say that, while there were lots of bands along the route, there weren't nearly as many as along a Rock 'n' Roll marathon route. Then again, there were exponentially more fans, so what's more important?

Finally, at mile 8 all three courses blended and we ran as one. Again, felt really good here. We were passing people and being passed, but for the most part moving slightly faster than the people around us. We turned on Lafayette and passed several houses with parties and barbecues in their front yards. It was clear that people treated the race as a huge rolling block party -- as an event to be celebrated rather than an annoyance to be tolerated. Well, until we turned into Williamsburg, a traditionally Hasidic neighborhood that has requested that the race be routed around them. So it was pretty quiet through there -- though we did see a couple of young mothers with their children sitting on stoops, smiling shyly.

Then a couple more turns and we were headed to the Pulaski bridge, crossing into Queens. We had spent much of Brooklyn running near the Blues Brothers, and stopped to snap photos of them (and they of us) as we crossed the bridge with the gorgeous Manhattan skyline in the distance. We crossed the halfway point in 2:36, a completely acceptable half marathon time for us, and I still felt remarkably good.

To be frank, I don't have a lot of memories of Queens, good or bad. I seem to recall passing streets lined with shops (rather than residential streets), but perhaps that was actually in Brooklyn. Who knows?!? I also remember sighting "TNT Elvis" -- a guy who raises money for Team in Training and runs in an Elvis jumpsuit. (Duh, right? What else would TNT Elvis wear?) The nicest touch is that the sequins are all purple and green. Sweet. We just kept running and running, and suddenly headed onto the Queensboro bridge. Three boroughs down, two to go.

Queensboro was a steep hill up as well -- we weren't the only ones who decided just to walk the whole way up. (It's always a bit amusing to pass people "running" while you're walking up a hill.) I laughed because it reminded me of scenes from Grand Theft Auto 3 Liberty City. Except the police weren't chasing us. Which is a good thing, because it would have been difficult to elude them.

We came down the super-steep bridge ramp and hit Manhattan for the first time. A roar came off the crowd, someone shouted "Welcome to Manhattan! Three down, two to go!" and we all whooped. One woman -- a short but broad woman built a tiny bit like Sponge Bob -- who we had been with since Brooklyn (seriously), with "Moskie" or something like that on her shirt, snarled, "Yeah, but it's not First Avenue yet."

Okay, another hundred feet or so and we turned on to First Avenue. (Happy now, Moskie?)

I had always been told that running down First Avenue in Manhattan is a huge thrill -- that the screaming crowds are 6 or 7 deep for blocks and blocks. But I figured that while that might be true for the frontrunners -- or even the medium runners -- that it wouldn't be true for us slow but steady types. Boy, was I wrong. The wall of sound that came off the people was amazing -- people packed up against the barricades on both sides of the street, just shouting and cheering. It completely perked me up.
That said, First Avenue stretched on and on and on...but at least it felt mainly like a long, slow downhill slide to the Bronx.

Everyone had always said that the Bronx was the hardest part -- not because of the terrain, or the roads, but just the placement of the course. You leave Manhattan and cross into the Bronx just before mile 20, and cross back into Manhattan just before mile 21. Mile 20 is, for many runners, The Wall. The NYRR had done well -- placing a gel stop around mile 17 or 18 so that everyone got some fuel to help them "smash the wall". And the Bronx had done extremely well, calling themselves "the Boogie-Down Bronx" and having what seemed like more music and dancers along their mile than along any other spot. I barely remember the Bronx -- other than seeing the dancers, doing the hand motions to some song as we headed out of the borough, and of course seeing my new favorite race sign:

YOUR FEET HURT BECAUSE U R KICKING SO MUCH ASS

We crossed back into Manhattan in Harlem -- and were greeted by gospel choirs, lots of friendly faces, and little old ladies handing out paper towels. I think it all caught up to me right around this point. I nearly tripped over one of those cord-cover things... which made me realize I wasn't picking up my feet at all. That said, I knew that with under 5 miles to go, I would finish, so it wasn't as if I was worried... I was just tired.

A few turns to skirt a park and we started heading up 5th Avenue. My fatigue had really hit me at this point. And the crowds were certainly thinner as we approached the park. And did I mention that it's essentially one long hill? I had slowly reduced our pace from our standard 5:1s to 3:1s and now 2:1s... but by the time we hit the last few blocks before the park I was pretty much just walking. Again, I was tired, but I knew I would finish, so I was okay. Not sure if that makes sense... but it's how I felt.

We turned in to Central Park near the reservoir and ran on the downhills and walked on the uphills. Wil was awesome, as usual, and kept me moving -- and smiling -- the whole way. We passed the 40 km marker... and shortly thereafter the 25 mile marker, and felt buoyed by them. Not buoyed enough to run, mind you, but happy.

We left the park for the little stretch along Central Park South and headed past some real troopers -- I mean, those people just have been there for hours. We also were joined by a man wearing a Spider-Man outfit at this point, oddly enough.

Then the turn at Columbus Circle and back into the park. Usually at the end of a race you see the "13 mile" or the "26 mile" mark and, no matter how bad you feel, you can pick yourself up for a "sprint" to the finish. I always think back to the guy at my first triathlon -- a sub-elite so much faster than me that he was returning from his bike leg before I even got on my bike... and was packing up when I was going out for my run. He looked at me and said, "Leave nothing in the tank" -- which Wil and I always say to each other as we hold hands and run across the line.

In New York, however, the 26 mile marker came on a curve -- and the finish line was invisible. While I tried to do the math in my exhausted head ("Point two of a mile... how long is that?!?") I couldn't make myself run. I think the tank was pretty much empty. But a few more steps and we could see the finish line -- three chutes wide. I grabbed Wil's hand and ran as fast as my tired legs could carry me. (Not very fast.)

I remember bursting into tears -- happy tears, but tears -- and hugging and kissing Wil. I also remember the volunteer with the medals beckoning us to come to him, and handing Wil a medal to place on me, and then handing me one to place on Wil. Very sweet. (This makes me tear up even now...)

Then I remember space blankets -- glorious mylar heat sheets -- which we all tied on in a variety of styles. Then we were handed bags of food -- none of this picking slowly through boxes of bagels. Nope -- here's your bag of food, now move along. Perfectly efficient!

We had to trudge a very long way, and people were moving very very slowly. It was also getting cold very quickly.

See, between the time change and the late start, one of my goals (besides just finishing) was to finish before sunset. We managed that, but it took us so long to get out of the park, that by the time we emerged into the street it was dark and very cold.

One really nice post-race story -- Wil overheard a man ask a woman if he could borrow her phone. She hesitated and then said no... but then felt bad and explained that it's because she was from New Zealand, and it was one thing to pay international roaming to call her mom, but another to give the phone to a stranger. Wil volunteered his phone, and the man made a quick call. We asked him how his race went, and he said he'd been a bit slower than he had hoped -- and that he had gotten separated from his girlfriend, but that they had made arrangements to meet and he was just confirming.

We told him congratulations, and he said something about we didn't know how appropriate that was. We hesitated -- was he a heart-transplant-recipient? An amputee? A cancer survivor? He saw our hesitation and said, "Oh, well, I was hoping to finish with my girlfriend and propose at the finish line." Awww. We wished him all the best, and went our separate ways.

On the way back to the apartment we passed some young Brits, who said, "How are you walking normally?!?" Ah, practice. Just practice.

We went home, had showers, and headed out for our well-earned massages. Fantastic day!

When I think about the race I'll always remember the sound of the crowd, the amazing numbers of cups at the giant water stops, running in a huge group, and the feeling that you were in a city that LOVED the marathon. I don't expect to run the race again-- heck, I don't expect to run another full marathon! -- but I am thrilled to have run what has to be one of the world's greatest races.

For posterity (or as least as long as the link is live...), here's the course map of the 2011 NYC Marathon.

NYC Marathon Pre-Race Report

So my training hadn't been optimal, and my "taper" had been more of a "drop", but after all the hustle it took to get bibs for the race -- including raising over $3000 with a lot of help from my friends! -- I wasn't going to skip the race.

We got into town on Friday at 5 -- and realized that if we hustled we could get to the expo before it shut at 8 and get our numbers, shirts, etc. Expo was very different than any others I had ever visited -- huge, sprawling place, with lots of large exhibitors and very few "little guys". Or maybe we just didn't see the little guys? Big pretty Brooks shop -- nice! Also interesting to compare and contrast what Asics (the official sponsor) and Nike did. Asics had all the official gear, of course, but I wasn't that impressed. Nike had all the "bandit" gear that said "NYC 26.2" -- sneaky! We checked in at the Nike+ counter, and were given special NYC 26.2 sportbands (minus the sensor). Very cool. Oh, also at expo we got the very good news that we didn't have to be at the ferry terminal until 7:30 and 7:45 -- much more sensible than 5:30 and 5:45!

We spent way too long on our feet on Saturday, but still managed to get to bed early. And with the time change (and the ferry change) we didn't have to get up until 6am, so it wasn't too hard to get moving. We got up, got dressed, put breakfast in a bag and headed to the subway. Funny to get on board a train and see a lot of people dressed like you. :) We were, of course, layered up with our disposable warm clothes -- and astounded by the people who were in shorts and singlets. Really? I mean, really?

We chatted with a very friendly guy named Eddie, who was astounded by the marathon and wished us good luck. We had to leave the subway and take a shuttle bus for the last few stations -- a bus crammed with runners. Awesome.

Then into the Staten Island Ferry terminal, where we crowded in to a busy departure hall. No one checked our "assignments" -- it was clear that they just wanted to get people onto boats as quickly as possible. After about 15 minutes, a ferry arrived -- and we all filed onto it. Wil and I headed up to the upper deck -- glorious in the bright sunshine -- and settled in to enjoy our cruise. I was amazed at how long it took to get to Staten Island... and humbled at the realization that we would be running all the way back and then some!

Upon landing at Staten Island, we took our time getting off the boat (no sense in queuing up!), and were welcomed by a throng of volunteers. We stopped to take a couple of pictures of the Manhattan skyline in the distance.

Gulp. That's sure a long way away...

Then onto buses that took us the last few miles to Fort Wadsworth. We seemed to arrive at just the right time -- in a gap between buses -- which meant that we got off the bus to discover a line of clean, empty porta potties. There was a strange pause -- what were those strange, line-free things? -- and then we all headed over to them. Within minutes other buses arrived and long lines formed. Clearly, the marathon gods were on our side.

We then moved to the "Race Village" entrance... and faced lines of security guards and then armed soldiers all shouting "SHOW ME YOUR NUMBER!". That gauntlet cleared, things were easier. We walked and walked until we found our Green village... and realized that a lot of people had still been told to be on the ferry at 5:30. Yikes.

Wil got some coffee and we found a quiet spot to have a rest. We had over an hour before our corrals opened, so we just ate our breakfasts and relaxed. It was cold but the sun was shining and the day was bright. Perfect!

We decided to move to a more central location in the village 15 minutes before our corrals opened -- just in time to see the male elites and wave 1 start. It was amazing to hear a roar and suddenly see people appearing on the bridge. We whooped and waved ... and then laughed at the men stopping to pee on the bridge.

Soon after, our corrals opened... and the second wave moved into the starting pen. They left, we moved into the pens, and tried to avoid twisting an ankle on the piles of discarded clothing. I had the same surreal feeling I often do before races -- was this really happening? Was I about to start running a MARATHON? To be honest, part of me still worries that I've just dreamt all of this, and that I'm going to wake up and face race morning again! But we were waved forward into the starting chute, and with a cannon shot, we were on our way.

...and done!

Trance tagged and ready to go!

Bibs!!! Not sure why the pic remains stubbornly upside down, though.