About 2 weeks before the race my hip started bothering me and even though I did no running at all the last week before the race, it was still problematic from the start. Perhaps this was the year that running a hard marathon approximately a month before JFK became something negative. Enough excuses, on with the story.

Race Day;

Got a ride up with Mark (and Angela) early Saturday morning and we made good time arriving at the school in Boonsboro just a minute or 2 after 6. I recommended to Mark that we take 270 to Frederick and he accepted my advice. I needed a restroom immediately upon arriving and the lines inside are always long so I looked in the usual place for the portajohns and couldn't find them. Found a race official who told me where they were and got that bit of business taken care of. With predictions for a cold blustery day, I was a little unsure of how to dress but had packed everything but the kitchen sink. In the gym I settled on tights over my running shorts, a long sleeve coolmax covered by a coolmax singlet and a windbreaker, polypro gloves and headband and I was set. This ended up working really well for me until very late in the day (mile 38) when I added a sweat-vest under my windbreaker.

On the way to the starting line I could already feel my hip bothering me and I wondered just how crazy I was to try this but since I was there and they had my money and, truth be told, I really wanted to make the 250 club, I was not going to drop out yet. There were lots and lots of RRers (RestonRunners) that mingled together at the start. I knew there was a very good chance I would be running with folks I knew. I also knew that I wanted to hustle up South Mountain to the AT so as to minimize the traffic I would encounter on the trail.

I ended up running almost exactly the same split to the AT that I ran last year. I was looking forward to getting to the AT partly because I was expecting to see a non-running friend who was there from a hiking club to help us poor runners make sure we figured out which way to run on the trail.. A quick handshake with him and I was up the trail running with a bunch of RRers including Bill VA, JimA, JimB, Kevin and Will (and that was just in the immediate vicinity!). I hit my split button a little late after getting on the trail and recorded a 25 minute start to AT split We all stuck together pretty well for a couple miles then when they pulled off for a nature break I thought, "Ahah!. This is my chance" and really pressed on into Crampton's Gap and beyond. Between Crampton's and Weverton I had a chance to run with some other different RRers including Steve (awesome day, 8:27) and Fernando. Fernando had run a very strong JFK in his first attempt 2 years ago and I knew it would be tough to stay in front of them. Also, before Cramptons I passed Loretta, Joni and Clare. I did not realize they had blasted up the hill from the start and were in front of me until I passed them. My hip was not bothering me so much on the AT I think quite possibly due to the uneven nature of the running up there. I had a great run down to Weverton taking 5 or 6 minutes off my time from last year. I was pretty pumped. Ed and Helen (my crew folks) and lots of other RR crew were waiting at Weverton. Time to bottom of Weverton cliffs, 2:40. A banana, a couple salt tablets and some tomato soup and I was on my way grabbing a little sports drink at the aid station before crossing the tracks to the towpath.

My goal for the towpath (marathon within the ultra) was the same as it had been in years past, 5 hours with a negative split. That turned out to be wildly optimistic. The pain from my hip steadily increased. My running speed, not that fast at this point to begin with, steadily decreased. When I took a break from running, I was limping. I had nearly 30 miles to go. However on the bright side, I had run well enough up to that point that I could in all likelihood still walk and finish in under 12 hours. From about mile 22 to the "38 special" aid station, I was doing the reciprocal of what I would normally have expected of myself; I was walking 80% of the time and running (slowly/painfully) 20% of the time. A steady stream of people including many familiar RRers went by me. Loretta, still running with Joni and Clare and now with JimA were looking strong. Fernando had passed me very early on the towpath looking very strong. I heard Kevin was having a tough go of it but he still caught me somewhere around 27 perhaps. He ended up having a great first JFK with a 9:01. Shortly after dropping me and as I was leaving one aid station (mile 22) here comes Joni in the opposite direction walking like an old woman with a crooked back. She had fallen. Being only a few yards out of the aid station I turned and yelled to them that there was a need for medical attention. She had opened up a gash above her eye. I felt really bad for her because she had been running so well and I assumed that this might be the end of her day. But I pressed on moving slowly but steadily over the miles, thinking about maybe trying to run hard again at C&O milepost 71, halfway through the towpath marathon. I'm not sure how long it was but the next thing I knew, a now bandaged Joni was passing me again asking how far ahead Loretta and Clare were. It seemed impossible to me that she could catch them and I was brutally honest with her about that. I was way wrong. While she did not catch Loretta (amazing 8:34), she did catch Clare (almost, beaten by 2 seconds at the finish). The next day Clare confessed to really wanting to beat Joni. Who says women are not competitive? I was amazed that so many of our runners went sub 9 in no small part because that was better than I had ever done. Ego, who me?

I spent an extended period walking and philosophizing with ultra runner extraordinaire Russ. We were both feeling pretty humble about ourselves as we walked along the towpath although we both had every intention of finishing. Russ's crew was set up at an earlier position in the aid station we walked into and I walked on yelling back that I would catch up with him later (or him, me) on the other side of the aid station. Turns out he stopped only briefly and I thought for much of the rest of the day that he was behind me when he had actually caught a strong 2nd (or 3rd or 4th) wind and had pressed on to a very respectable finish with Bill VA (9:34 each).

Some time after this was one of the lowest points for me on the day, there was an aid station where they were grilling hamburgers. They smelled _so good_. But when I asked for one, I was told they were for the volunteers. Well I fully understand that volunteers absolutely need to eat too but the smell of those burgers was really enticing and with the pampered treatment that RRers especially receive, I was not prepared to be turned down.

Maybe they could set up the grill next time so that the smell would NOT waft onto the course. A previous aid station had pizza boxes in evidence but no pizza. Boo, hiss. At the 31 aid station Ed decided to run along with me for a couple miles which was nice. It got me to run more than I had been. When he doubled back I soon reverted to walking. The breeze had died down and I was not uncomfortable with the weather. It was a beautiful day really. Several times in the second half of the towpath I ask fellow RRers to encourage my wife (when they saw her at the finish) to go inside. I finally started running again after the 38 special and ran all the way, a whole 3.2 miles(!), to the end of the tow path. This was a major improvement in my performance from the previous 15 or 20 miles. Towpath marathon split: 6:06. Ouch.

I was considerably later in the day at this point in the race than I had ever been before and I humbly received my reflective vest and started walking up "the hill" which marks the first part of the final leg. 8 miles to go. I think many JFK veterans would describe this as one of the hardest parts of the race. It's a steep hill at first and a long hill when it's all said and done. As in the past, I walk _all_ the way up it. Somewhere over the next 2-3 miles I become acquainted with Mike Smith as we walk and jog over the rolling hill into Williamsport. Running an ultra _with_ people is most definitely a bonding experience. I warn him that I get a strong homing instinct at the end of these things and we run pretty strong from the traffic light before 81. Mike is still with me as we reach the last traffic light and are facing a small rise before the finish line in the distance. I walk over this rise. A woman (I think) is joined by her family including young kids for the final quarter mile. I hammer it. I know it's over. I don't look to the right (cemetery). I hear my wife yelling "go Jim" but I don't really see her. I finish. 10:51. They take my vest. I get a big hug from my wife and daughter. I shake hands with Mike. Uh oh, I am feeling very strong emotions and start intermittedly sobbing as I hold my 5 year old's hand and walk into the school. I hobble over to where our massage therapists are set up. Wow, there is an open table! I am sobbing as I peel off clothes. Then they gently but firmly suggest I go over to the medical folks first. I get bagged (IV) and gassed (oxygen). They are taking my blood pressure and pulse Ox and start taping EKG electrode doo-hickeys to my chest. I don't feel _that_ bad but was happy enough to take the IV as I've heard they are very beneficial to recovery. I wonder what my wife and daughter are thinking at this point (my husband/father is an idiot!). No one is getting too excited. They give me one bag and decide they don't need to take me to the hospital or anything. I get up, get some food and get that massage I had been thinking about for so long. Thanks Cliff. After the massage I meet Toks who confesses to her own personal worst JFK but we both made the 250 club today. Time to go home.

I've volunteered to cook breakfast tomorrow morning. I forego any post race alcohol for the evening saving it for while we cook Sunday morning. Russ, Bill and I prepare waffles, pancakes, hash browns, eggs, sausage and bacon (for a party of 70 RRers and crew) while we reminisce about one of the best days of the year the day before. Life is good.