Thursday, October 19, 2017


2017 Grindstone 100

The Abridged Version (full accounting below):

  • Shooting for sub-20
  • Afraid amazing competition would mean I'd miss out on Top 5 in back-to-back years
  • Wife crewing with my 3 year old daughter -- huge props!
  • Start to Dowell's Draft (0 - 22)
    • I hung back with Matt Thompson -- despite being much more talented, he was respecting the distance for his first Hundo and happily chilled with me. Also ran with Christopher Miller for a good number of early miles. Good times all around!
    • We cruised into Dry Branch 7 minutes up on desired splits, so we took it really easy on the Crawford climb and descent.
    • Arrived at Dowell's still well up on time.
    • I didn't meet crew so jumped ahead while everyone else wasted time at the Aid Station.
  • Dowell's Draft to North River Gap (22 - 37)
    • I climbed Hankey Mountain like a beast. 5 miles nearly 15 minutes faster than last year.
    • Had my first chances to stop here and there for a few seconds to stop and marvel at the moon.
    • I took it easy down into Lookout Mountain.
    • The dirt fire roads were intense. It was so dusty and dry ... lots of coughing. Had to pull out a Buff to cover my mouth.
    • Easy into North River, perhaps too easy, minding the frustratingly technical 6 mile descent.
    • I met my crew still up 12 minutes on my splits, so I took my sweet time. The kiddo was still awake, waiting to cheer me on!
    • Made a dumb mental mistake that cost me time the rest of the race -- I felt so comfortable with my 2 new UD hard flasks that I refused to take the pre-mixed older style bottles from my wife. Instead, each subsequent meetup I handed off my hard flasks, she dumped remaining contents, then transferred liquids from other perfectly usable bottles back into the hard flasks. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Note for future: Wife has authority to say "no, that's a stupid decision!"
  • North River Gap to Turnaround (37 - 52)
    • Strong climb up to Little Bald. Over 15 minutes faster than last year.
    • Little Bald had potatoes! My empty, growling stomach was very appreciative.
    • Took it really easy all the way to the Turnaround, just cruising. Honestly, I was trying to stop making gains on my planned splits.
    • When I started the 2.5 mile climb up to Reddish, I turned off my headlamp and ran by the moonlight. It may have slowed me down a bit, but it was an amazing experience.
    • On the climb up to Reddish, I saw Rusiecki and "The Norwegian" coming back down. I was only 5 minutes behind them.
    • I spent a minute at the top oooh-ing and aaaah-ing at the moon.
    • Cruised into the Turnaround, lost some more time to Rusiecki ... meh, whatever.
    • Wasted more time at the Aid Station than I should have, but was 15 minutes up on my splits.
    • The Turnaround didn't have potatoes. Sons of bitches!
  • Turnaround to North River Gap (52 - 67)
    • I ran all the way up the 2+ mile blacktop climb. Climbing legs were still going strong!
    • Bumped into Thompson on the way up, he was around 10 minutes back of me.
    • It was a super chill run all the way to the top of Little Bald.
    • Finally turned my headlamp back on at some point ... ran roughly 9 or 10 miles without it!
    • Took it easy on the technical early miles of the big descent, then Thompson steamrolled me and I did my best to keep up.
    • I rolled into the Aid Station maybe a minute behind Thompson. I should've left with him and his pacer, John Andersen ... but I'm an idiot and made another mental mistake. I swapped out shoes because the crazy dry trails had been getting fine dirt particles inside my shoes and one of my big toes was developing a hot spot. I should've just sucked it up! Damn it!
  • North River Gap to Dowell's Draft (67 - 80)
    • I left a couple minutes after Thompson, then ran into Amy Rusiecki and stopped for a quick chat ... wait, is this a race or a leisurely training run?! She tried imploring me to go catch her husband and Thompson.
    • Lookout Mountain murdered my soul. I couldn't get into a groove. It took me 90 minutes to get up to the Aid Station.
    • I traded barbs with Bob Clouston and Becca Weast for a minute or two, then cursed them for not having potatoes.
    • The remaining climb up to Hankey went better, and I got back into a groove on the descent into Dowell's. But by that point, I knew I was already 15-20 minutes back of Thompson and Rusiecki.
    • I wasted a lot of time, again, at the Aid Station.
    • My time buffer had evaporated on Lookout Mountain. Getting in under 20 hours was gonna be a tall order.
  • Dowell's Draft to Dry Branch Gap (80 - 88)
    • I left the Aid Station right behind "The Norwegian". Sondre Amdahl wasn't looking good, and I passed him and his Euro poles before we even got to HWY250 and found myself in 5th place.
    • I crossed HWY250 at 16:01. Less than 4 hours to get the job done. Could I do it?!
    • I made good work of Crawford Mountain. I climbed fast and my legs felt good.
    • I crested and cruised down to Dry Branch Gap at 17:19. I thought my effort on Crawford would've had me arriving at 17:15. That 4 minute different shook my confidence. So, as is wont to do under increasingly tight time objectives, I pissed away some more time at the Aid Station.
    • Did they have potatoes here?! I have no idea ... it's all a blur at this point.
  • Dry Branch Gap to the Finish (88 - 101.85)
    • As I left the Aid Station, I heard another runner coming in behind me. So help me god, if I miracled a sub-20 effort and still got 6th, I would be throwing a finish line tantrum the likes of which no one has ever seen!
    • I tried pushing up Elliot, but my quads had had enough. I couldn't hit a groove on the uneven rocks so I settled into a hard hike for most of the climb.
    • I kept chasing the clock. If I didn't hit the gravel road on Elliot's by 18:30, sub-20 wasn't gonna happen.
    • The incline eased up but I still had trouble running. Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!
    • I popped out on the gravel road at 18:32 and tried mustering the strength to get down to Falls Hollow by 19:05 ... a near impossible task.
    • As I got closer to the bottom I still couldn't turn my legs over fast enough. I pulled into Falls Hollow at 19:08, utterly dejected.
    • After a quick fill-up of Tailwind I still tried to give it a go, but the little climbs in the final 5 miles made it painfully obvious that sub-20 just wasn't gonna happen.
    • I kept pushing and hit the Mile To Go sign. My watch then rolled over from 19:53 to 19:54. 6 flat for the final mile?! Yeah, that's a big fat NO!
    • I eased up and finally cruised in just under 20:03 ... so close!

The Full Accounting of Chris Roberts and the 2017 Grindstone Endurance Run:

So there was this little get together in the mountains of Virginia called the Grindstone 100 ... maybe you've heard of it. I headed out there to my third Grindstone and to complete my 5th 100 miler. I'd come a long way since Grindstone #1 and I was feeling confident about my abilities, but was afraid the deeper talent pool this year would make it nearly impossible to repeat in the Top 5. I knew Avery Collins, Brian Rusiecki, and Caleb Denton would most assuredly beat me. Then there was another highly ranked dude, a pole-tacular Norwegian who has made the rounds on the Ultra Trail World Tour circuit, and then rising East Coast phenom Matt Thompson making his Hundo debut. And there's always the chance of a sleeper having a breakout performance. So instead of worrying about position, I decided to prioritize patience and run on my own terms.

The ultimate goal: sneak in under 20 hours.

My crew for this adventure was my wife, who has helped me out at most of my other 100 Mile races, and my 3 year old daughter making her crew debut! Before I even get into the race report, I've got to give huge props to my wife for taking on the challenge. Her job may very well have been more difficult than mine. It's not often one finds themselves spending the better part of a day driving around backcountry roads just to meet up and help someone for a couple minutes at a time, all while juggling a young kid and trying to find the time to breast pump in a car because one has been forced to abandon their infant for the weekend.

(Getting ready ... and looking enthused, as always)
(New crew member!)

The race started in typical fashion, with a handful of overeager runners mixing it up with the big boys. I tried not to pay them any mind. It was friggin hot out ... it felt like it was 95 and I wasn't about to waste my energy racing right from the starting line. But I also tried to make a point to keep up with Matt Thompson to have some company in the early miles. Less than 2 miles in, I noticed my feet were feeling a bit heavy, and the next thing I knew ... CRASH! I didn't fall so much as trip and land precisely 99.99% of my body weight on a rock that smashed into my knee. Somehow my hands caught the ground and I powered myself back up before losing control and splaying out, but my knee instantly ached. Luckily, as the race went on, it rarely caused anything more than a slight irritation. But it did look considerably swollen by the end of the race, and nearly two weeks later it's still stiff, swollen, and achy.

(Why are we running so fast? It's only Mile 2! Photo credit: Chris Thompson)

After "cresting" the Little North Mountain section around Mile 4, I happily reconnected with Thompson who was showing an appreciation for the distance by being unwilling to run with the leaders. Christopher Miller connected up with us and we three went on our merry little way. Halfway into the single-track up Elliott Knob we turned on our headlamps and both Chris and Matt had problems. Chris' read fully charged but would only blink and turn back off, and Matt's wouldn't turn on at all. Our pace slowed a bit as they bumbled with their lights and I did my best to light the way with my headlamp. Chris got his working before the steep gravel road, and Matt sorted out his batteries soon thereafter. First crisis averted!

We hiked the whole way up Elliott Knob, getting passed by one or two runners. But we still made great time -- it was the fastest I'd ever ascended, in a race or training run. We patiently made our way down into Dry Branch Gap without much fanfare. We were 9 minutes up on my time from last year, which I thought was a tad fast for the 20-hour goal Matt and I shared. A quick fill of the bottles and we were off to tackle Crawford Mountain. Matt was more than happy to accommodate my slower pace in the early miles, and we made sure to take it easy and hike where necessary. Then, it was down the Chimney Hollow Trail and onward to Dowell's Draft. We tucked in behind a runner for awhile, and while I felt we could've gone a bit faster on the flat section at the creek bottom I made no attempt to speed up. The fear of going out too fast kept me in check.

At Dowell's Draft, as has become customary, all the runners in my pack peeled off to meet up with crew, while I simply filled my bottles and took off, gaining 2-3minutes on them in the process. I figured Matt and maybe another runner or two would quickly catch up on the 5 mile Hankey Mountain climb, but that never happened and, for the most part, I spent the rest of the race alone.

(Dowell's Draft, leaving everyone in my dust! Photo credit: Chris Thompson)

Last year, John Andersen and I had a pity party climbing Hankey Mountain and we took it way too easy. This year I was determined to power through. I ran about 90% of the climb and ended up knocking 15 minutes off my time from the previous year. I was booking it and feeling great! I made sure to stop every so often to catch a glimpse of the massive moon ... no sense in taking things too seriously!

Once I crested and began the descent to Lookout Mountain Aid Station, I took it very, very easy. I was way up on my splits already and I had no intention of killing my quads on any descents just to keep throwing minutes in the bank. Around this time, the 3-week dry spell in the area started to become very apparent. I was choking on the kicked up dust so bad that I had to take out my buff from my pack to cover my mouth. I continued my easy-going pace the remaining 6 miles into North River Gap -- perhaps a bit too easy.

At North River Gap, Mile 37, I met up with my wife and 3-year-old daughter for the first time. Because I was still well up on my splits I didn't rush the stop. It was nice to spend a few minutes there, to take a breather, and to say "hey" to my daughter -- what a trooper, staying up to see daddy run through just after midnight! Then I was on my way to tackle The Big Climb up to Little Bald.

(The Crew has all the fun!)

My ascent of Grindstone Mountain and Chestnut Ridge up to Little Bald was rather unremarkable. It was calm and controlled, but focused. I got a little antsy at the end, waiting and waiting for the top to present itself. Last year I felt that I took it too easy on this climb, so I was determined to have a more honest go at it this time around. I ended up peeling more than 15 minutes off that 7 mile climb, and my legs felt great. When I got to the clearing at the top, I took a moment to turn off my headlamp and gaze up at the sky and soak in the moon.

I calmly made my way the extra 2 miles or so to the Little Bald Aid Station. I had been feeling the hunger pangs of an empty stomach for a while, so I devoured some potatoes to supplement my hourly Huma gel intake. After refilling my bottles, grabbing more potatoes, and heading out, I linked up with another runner who informed me that Brian Rusiecki had left the Aid Station "right before me". A competitive jolt shot through my body, but I reigned it in and reminded myself I was already well up on my goal splits and there was no sense going overboard so early in the race. And honestly, chasing Rusiecki?! I'm not that good!

The miles ticked by quickly, and when it came time to begin the 2.5 mile gradual climb up to Reddish Knob, I turned off my headlamp, slightly eased up on my pace, and continued to soak in the beautiful full moon atmosphere. A little ways into the quick blacktop out-and-back to the top of Reddish, I came across Rusiecki and "the Norwegian" on the way back down. They were no more than 5 minutes up on me. Nevertheless, I took it easy to the top and the succeeding 2.5 miles of hard blacktop to the turnaround ... all sans headlamp. I counted runners coming by and figured I was in 6th or 7th. I was 15 minutes up on my goal time, so I had another casual crew stop. Andersen was still waiting on Thompson, so he happily helped me get organized before I hit the road again. I quickly checked the food offerings but saw no potatoes. Son of a bitch!

(It's hard to beat running under that all night long)

I started the climb back up and was able to run the entire 2+ miles only stopping once to change out my headlamp, having forgotten to do so at the turnaround. On fresh legs it's an easy climb, but after 50 miles of running it might require hiking breaks, so I was pleased to find my legs still had the strength to power through. At one point I came across Thompson, and figured he was around 10 minutes back of me. I figured I'd be seeing him again shortly.

The rest of the way back to the top of Little Bald was unremarkable. I left my headlamp off until I got back onto the dirt fire road, having gone nearly 90 minutes with only a 2 lumen red light and the bright moon to guide my way. I proceeded back down to North River Gap, making sure to take my time on the more technical rock sections in the first mile or so of the descent. As expected, Thompson came charging up behind me. I let him by, then conversed and ran with him as best I could. At one point, half way down the descent, I had to let him go ... I was unwilling to put that kind of punishment on my quads and knees.

After cresting Grindstone Mountain, I picked up the pace and cruised into North River Gap, maybe a minute behind Thompson. I was still 15-20 minutes up on my goal splits so I again decided to take my time. The dirt had been causing an irritation on my big toe and my shoes were starting to feel a bit too stiff, so I sat down and changed shoes. I feared a blister or the frustrating maceration I'd experienced a few months ago at Vermont. Right then and there, I committed a major mental lapse that easily cost me 15 minutes. Instead of leaving with Thompson and Andersen, who was pacing, I watched them cruise out of the Aid Station as I swapped out shoes and slowly sorted out my nutrition. I never expected myself to be able to finish with or ahead of Thompson -- he's just too fast -- but I had entertained the idea of magically keeping up with him for the first 100K just to be able to tag along with him and Andersen to share some miles for as long as I could hang on. That's the position I found myself in and I failed to take advantage of it. Instead, I probably left the Aid Station 2-3 minutes after them, and I never saw them again!

A couple minutes after finally leaving the Aid Station, I bumped into Amy Rusiecki and literally stopped mid-race to say hey and chat her up for a minute. I was honestly a bit taken aback upon realizing she knew who I was -- we've chatted a couple times before and, it's true, I did famously win the Solo Title at her Vermont 100 this summer, but I dunno, she and her husband are fancy, bigtime racers, they're not supposed to pay any mind to us common folk! ... Anyways, it was more valuable time wasted ... but I was still up on my splits, and let's be honest, I'm the one paying to be out here so if I wanna waste time then so be it!

I began the rocky, disruptive climb up Lookout Mountain and immediately felt out of sorts. It's a crap section of trail and it's always difficult to get into a good rhythm. Three years in a row this section has kicked my ass ... so I'm calling it ... the Lookout Mountain Ascent is the World's Worst Stretch of Trail.

I finally arrived at Lookout Mountain Aid Station after nearly 90 minutes of hiking and pretending to run. Just like that, 15 minutes evaporated and I no longer had any cushion on my splits. For the entire course I made 30-60 second per mile gains compared to 2016 ... except for this stretch. Those 6 miles chewed me up and spit me out. And to make matters worse, those jerks at the Aid Station didn't have any potatoes for me to munch on! I stood around for a minute, utterly dejected, trying to muster up enough focus to continue on.

(Do I have to keep running? Photo credit: Becca Weast)

(Bitching about potatoes is apparently meme-worthy. Photo credit: Becca Weast and John Andersen)

I eventually got back into my groove and cruised on into Dowell's Draft. 20 miles to go and I was right on my 20-hour split. This was going to be a close one! Yet again, I wasted too much time at this Aid Station. I spent what felt like 15 minutes fighting off Frank Gonzalez's helpful attempts to feed me. No Frank, I don't want any broth!

Did they have potatoes? Did they not? I have no idea! It was all a blur at this point ... a slow moving blur. Oh, and apparently I utterly demolished my daughter's leaf pile, which she had been carefully crafting as she waited to see me ... sorry about that! Despite taking my sweet time, I left right after "The Norwegian" -- Sondre Amdahl -- who looked to be hurting. I quickly caught up with him and managed to find myself in 5th place for the second year in a row.

(I know you're thinking it ... yes, that hoodie IS adorable.)

Now it was time to tackle Crawford Mountain. The return trip is a beast. The final 2.5 miles of the climb are unrelenting. I hiked a lot of it, but I kept pushing my legs, trying to string together any running time that I could -- 10 seconds, 30 seconds, 1 minute. I felt strong, confident. As I climbed I could swear I was hearing voices right below me ... someone wanted my 5th place!

...Then things got a bit weird...

I imagined myself sprinting for the finish line as the clock ticked toward 20:00. I would be going flat out. I would sneak in right under the wire, and collapse to the ground, bawling my eyes out, overcome with the emotion of achieving a goal that two years ago I would've thought impossible ... sub 20 at Grindstone.

The scene played over and over in my mind. Before I knew it, my eyes were welling up. Yup ... I was friggin crying mid-race.

You can do this, Chris, just keep pushing! Sub 20! Sub 20! Now wipe off those tears and run!

I kept fighting off my standard urge to say "meh, if you don't hit your goal, no big deal." I pushed all the way to the switchback that signaled I was nearly to the top. I made a careful survey of the trails below me ... there was no one to be seen. After cresting, I took a breather and then cruised down into Dry Branch Gap, still slightly holding back on the descent for fear of prematurely bombing out my quads. By this point, my emotional composure had been restored.

At Dry Branch I was 88 miles in and still smack dab on my splits. I took a couple of minutes at the Aid Station to regroup -- probably a minute or two more than I should have ... yet again -- and then headed out for The Final Climb. As I departed I could hear hooting and hollering behind me ... someone was still right on my heels.

Now was the time to give it my all. I kept chugging along. Up, up, up. But when I started hitting the extended stretches of loose rock towards the top of the climb, I practically stopped in my tracks. I couldn't build up the urge to run. I'd give it a go but each rock I tried to maneuver over would break my stride. Once I cleared the rocks I reached more manageable inclines, but I still couldn't run. My climbing legs were gone, left somewhere back on Crawford. I checked my watch ... over and over again. I was nearly out of time. If I didn't reach the gravel road at the top of Elliott before 18:30 I had no shot at breaking 20-hours. The trail kept climbing and climbing and I kept hiking, throwing in failed attempts at running a few times a minute. This climb had to end soon. I had nothing left to give. 18:30 ticked by. I tried convincing myself a super-human effort could make due with an 18:35 arrival, but my confidence was waning, quickly.

Finally, I hit the gravel road at 18:32 and immediately jumped into the quad-pounding descent. With my legs shot from the climb, I found them unable to turn over quickly enough to handle the steep gravel road. Instead of flying down I felt like I was hobbling. Once I hit the single track I could open my stride, but it didn't last long. The final 1.5 miles down to Falls Hollow were a solid 1-2 minutes per mile slower than I wanted. I pulled into Falls Hollow at 19:08. My day was done. There was no way I'd break 20-hours now. I had arrived 3 minutes too late. I've never filled up bottles here before, but the midday heat had me downing a lot of liquids on Elliott. I loaded up on Tailwind knowing my body was done with Huma gels for the day and filled the other bottle with water to use as a spray. Then I headed out for the final stretch.

I kept trying to force the pace, but the slightest incline had me walking. Those little, worthless, good-for-nothing hills felt like mountains. Once I started descending along the rocky, rooty creek trails I did my best to push myself, and, for a moment here and there, I truly thought I could still get the job done. When the trails smoothed out I started looking for the Mile To Go sign. I honestly had no idea where it was, so I just kept pushing. I could've sworn the Spectator Spot from the beginning of the race was at the 1 Mile mark, but when I happened upon it, I saw no sign. My watch read 19:49. I still held out hope, but the odds were stacked against me. Then ... I SAW THE SIGN! I glanced at my watch. It ticked from 19:53 to 19:54. I immediately let up. 6 flat to finish the race? Impossible!

For the final mile I let my legs and lungs rest, and busied myself with uncomfortably frequent looks over my shoulder to make sure my pursuer wasn't hot on my tail. When I crossed the dam and hit the edge of the lake I looked back and didn't see anyone. I was free to jog it in without any fear of a last-second sprint. My daughter ran up to me at the finishing chute and I spent a few moments trying to convince her to run in with me. But she's way too shy for that, so instead she recoiled and backed away while I awkwardly stood motionless. I took a glance at the clock and realized a hard sprint could get me in under 20:03. I tagged the line as the clock hit 20:02:59 a bit disappointed in having come so close, but still proud of the effort overall.

(Find a better finishing form on the day, I dare ya!)

Final tally:
  • 5th Place for the second year in a row ... Top Finisher Puffy!
  • 20:02:57 officially
  • 1:17 faster than last year, 4:07 faster than 2015
  • 16th fastest running of the course
  • 12th fastest person to ever complete the course ... not too shabby

(Award Ceremony ... showing off the puffy)

All the Thanks

A huge thanks to Clark Zealand and his cadre of volunteers. Grindstone is an amazing race, made all the better by the hard work and dedication of everyone at the aid stations and putting in the work behind the scenes.

Many thanks to my mother for flying in and turning Grindstone weekend into her annual babysitting duties.

And deepest thanks to my wife for juggling so many responsibilities just to help me run in the mountains for 20 hours (and 3 minutes). In all honesty, I'm a bit jealous because she got to spend the night and day hanging out with our daughter while I was off getting sweaty and tired.

Gear & Nutrition

  • Altra Lone Peaks
  • Injinji toe socks
  • Patagonia shirt and Strider Pro shorts
  • Boco trucker hat
  • 17 Huma gels
  • 3000 cals of Tailwind (300cal/20oz/2hrs)
  • 1 ClifBlock, some potatoes (but not enough!), some oranges, and a pint of apple juice

Post-race Assessment

  • I must have hit my knee awfully hard because it's still a bit swollen and stiff after 2 weeks.
  • I can jog fine, but I sometimes limp when I walk, and bringing my foot all the way up to my butt creates a good deal of pain at the point of impact -- no track intervals for me any time soon!
  • I think my legs are figuring out this whole 100 miles thing.
  • I was sore the next day, but I was still able to hobble-jog enough to chase my daughter around for a rousing game of hide-and-seek.
  • I never had problems going up and down steps.
  • Most importantly, immediately after the race I DID NOT get the shakes! Losing the ability to regulate body heat after a grueling race is sooo last year!
  • Climbing skills have greatly improved. I guess that's what happens when 30% of your training revolves around 12% climbs on the treadmill.
  • Half decent pacing throughout the race. Despite not breaking 20 hours, I'm proud of the effort I put in over those final 20 miles.
  • Technical descents -- Lookout Mountain outbound and first miles coming back down from Little Bald. 12% smooth descents on the treadmill aren't cutting it. I need to find steep, technical stretches of trail or maybe throw some squats into my long treadmill descents.
  • Lookout Mountain climb -- smooth treadmill climbs can't prepare you for everything.
  • Nutrition -- I need to be better about taking in gels over the final hours of the race.
  • Dilly-dallying at aid stations -- if I want to be competitive I need to get back to quick transitions.
Next year:
  • I know I left at least 10 minutes on the table at various aid station stops.
  • I took it too easy under the moonlight and on some of the mild grades in the middle of the race and between Dowell's and Lookout. I could probably buy back 5-10 minutes right there.
  • Figuring out the return trip up Lookout Mountain could save me another 10+ minutes.
  • Further hardening my quads could save another handful of minutes in the final 12 miles.
  • All told, it's not unreasonable to expect a 30 minute improvement next year, under ideal conditions ... Bring it on!

(Fly-By of the competition)

1 comment:

  1. Serious comment (mostly), for a change, since we've previously beat the potato thing into the ground on FB. Last year you scolded me for slowing you down all of 10 seconds trying to push more food on you, so this year I was only going to ask once what you needed, get it, and get the hell out of your way.

    So what did you do? You just stood there, wandered around, and started chit-chatting with us! After a minute I figured that you were going through a rough time and wanted a break from it so I broke my silence. If I'd have known you'd be 177 seconds off your goal I would've kicked you out right away, because you pretty much blew that time there, plus it sounds like the same at the previous AS. Changing shoes earlier, yeah, I get that it'd been nice to run with the guys but taking care of your feet is mega-important. Taking time to hug your daughter--totally worth it. Wasting time yapping with me? What were you thinking???