Every runner, or at least every runner of a certain sort, has in his or her mind crucible runs. These are explorations more than anything. They are self-designed to lay bare what makes you do what you do. Crucible runs aren’t necessarily about distance; they may be about terrain, or those you’re running with, or speed, or whatever. But all share a common characteristic: success or failure. One or the other. Crucible runs don’t allow for gray areas.

My first crucible run was in 1998 with the marathon.  My second, in August of last year, was Catoctin.  Saturday was my third – 50 miles.

With Deb riding and handling logistics, and on the hottest day of the year so far, we started at 5.30 on Saturday in Brunswick, MD and finished 13 hours and 7 minutes later in Washington DC.

Like all moments before you put that foot forward and step into the unknown, I approached Saturday with a combination of excitement and trepidation. I knew that mentally I was ready, physically – with my recent achilles problems – I wasn’t all that sure. I didn’t sleep well the night before and when the alarm went off at 3.30 I was happy to get up, grab a shower, slam back a double espresso, throw a not insignificant amount of gear into the truck and get going. Deb was ready, her bike already in her yard waiting for me. We threw yet more gear in, and got underway.

We arrived at Brunswick at about 5.15. It was cool, dark, slightly humid, and smelled overwhelmingly of spring. It was nice. We spent a few minutes getting me prepped, going over the strategy for the next 13-14 hours, and we got underway.  Deb took the truck and leapfrogged me to the next checkpoint, and then planned to ride back to me.  This technique, by the way, worked pretty well for the entire day.

It was great way to start the run. My headlamp lit up a nice oval in front of me, and I could focus on that while listening to the wildlife waking up. Just as the sky started to lighten, I saw a couple of deer herds, and then there was an absolute cacophony of hoots, whistles, squawks, grunts, banging, and overall auditory mayhem. It sounded like everybody was waking up and the same time, and everyone had – upon opening their eyes for the first time -  seen something unimaginably surprising. I ran for a few miles just marveling at it all.

And for the first couple of legs I was sufficiently distracted by my surroundings to ignore the little twinges of pain that are part and parcel of all of my running ventures. Deb would appear out of the long green tunnel ahead of me, come up along aside and we’d talk until we hit the transfer point. We got very good at getting the basics of my survival worked out before the heat hit.

Then the heat hit.

Taking a cue from Tom’s Run last year, I ran all of the segments after about 11.00 until the end with a bag of ice under my hat. Deb would arrive just as I was realizing my former ice could be used to cook ramen, and I’d swap it out for a new bag and carry on my merry way. Ice was critical, and it will be in a month as well.

The running itself was as it always is for me: slow, steady, disciplined. I adopted a 25/5 strategy for the first 25 miles, and although I had planned to keep that going until the end, the heat was simply not going to make the possible. Deb and I agreed to slow me down to a 20/10 approach and see how that went. It went fine, but I found myself adopting more of a 15/15 in the last 10 miles or so. Partially it was the heat, and partially I was just damn tired.  I did the first half in just under 6 hrs, and the second half in a little over 7 hrs.

There were a couple of relay races going on on the course which screwed up my mojo a bit. People flying past, doing their 6 or 8 mile leg. I so much prefer to run without any distraction, and these folks made some segments really, really tough.

The scenery was gorgeous. The entire course was along the C&O Canal, and the bluebells, and dandelions, and even the stinging nettle was in full and glorious bloom.

Surprisingly, it’ll require a little more effort to tease out of this run everything I want to, while recognizing that sometimes a run – even a crucible run – is just a run.

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