It’s now down to a matter of days. And the Grand Slam begins. Thing is the only race I’ve been able to think about is the first, Western States, which starts in two and half weeks. It’s kind of hard to think beyond this one. After all, it is the course that has yanked me around harder than a pit bull chomping on a rag doll. The descents, oh those descents. I cannot describe how they abused my body. And I went so willingly! Like a lamb to slaughter. I’m not going so willingly this time. Not this time.
Then Vermont. Yes, the deceptive little 100 miler in the Green Mountains. After getting lost twice last year and starting too too fast, I have learned my lesson. Right? No hammering down the 3 mile paved road. No coming in an hour faster then my plan in the first half. Not going to happen this time. Not this time.
I’m going to leave it at that. Leadville and Wasatch are taking place in another season, or so I am thinking. August? Way too far away to chatter on about. We must take these things on one by one. Live in the moment, because, as they say, the past is always tense, and the future perfect.