It’ll be cold, they said. It’ll be 10 degrees down here and 4 degrees at the top, they said. I would soon regret dressing in long black pants and a black t-shirt. Stiff and sore from our nearly 50K day, we went through our usual routine of getting dressed, packing our bags, and helping ourselves to the hotel breakfast. From there we walked over to the start line. The first corral was released at the shot of a cannon which scared the sh*t out of all of us. It was really loud and not very far away. Shortly after, it was our corrals turn to go.
Kyle and I drove up to Rossland together for the Broken Goat 50k on July 16. We hadn’t booked accommodations but luckily there was a large dirt parking area where runners were allowed to camp. After a long drive there we pulled into the camping area just before dinner time. We were pleasantly surprised to find Dikesh (Brown Dude in a Forest) car camping next to us. The three of us headed over to a nearby pub to grab a quick bite before the evening’s race briefing.
Our longest day. And if that wasn’t crazy enough we started with a hectic shuttle ride to the start line. We had been instructed to wait outside with our orange bags for the shuttle but it was late. One finally came but drove by as it was full. There was another shortly after that stopped for us. The unhappy driver got out started throwing bags on top of the already big pile just inside middle doors. Some of us runners were lucky enough to board through the front but many were left behind. Another shuttle picked them up.
I signed up for the Portland Marathon knowing that it was only a month out from my biggest adventure to-date, a seven-day stage race through the Alps called the TransAlpine Run. Unsure what the recovery time would be, I told myself I could always drop down to the half if needed although truthfully I’m not entirely sure if that was an option since the half had sold out early in the year.