This photo had been motivating me for years. It was taken shortly after dropping out of the 2005 HURT 100, after 26 hours of being out on the course.
Usually after a hard effort, all agony is forgotten and I am left with the feeling of wanting to do the run again. It has taken me 10 years to want to attempt the HURT again. I have felt a nagging desire to go back but have always thought better of it. Over the years I have ran quite a bit on those trails. More than a few times I have emerged bloody and covered in mud from just a ten mile trek across those roots, rocks, and mud pools called trails. It's been almost a decade and I still remember staggering around ridgelines at 3am delirious. There is something dark and introspective about those trails. The bamboo whispers in the night breeze, shadows and fog play tricks on the eyes. After 23 hours of being on the course, I thought I was being stalked by a boar (Which is not known for being stealthy and sneaky). I picked up a stick and started swinging it around yelling "Come out you fucker!!" At least I had enough sense left to know that I probably shouldn't continue dangling around ridges. I went down on a cot at the next aid station and woke up with a slight sense of disappointment that has stayed with me. This is the year for redemption; I’m stoked to start training for the January 2015 edition of the HURT. Why this year? I feel like I have made friends with the trail. We have come to a mutual understanding with one another. For me the trail is like quicksand. The harder I try to go, the more struggle I create for myself. My most recent treks on the course I have been able to feel relaxed and flow with an even and steady pace. I am excited to dedicate the next several months to learning to run with more patience.
