Subject: 2001rr100mile trail run
Date: Tue, 20 Feb 2001 13:52:30 -0600
From: "Joe Prusaitis" <rpec50@email.sps.mot.com>
Reply-To: joe.prusaitis@motorola.com
Organization: Motorola Semiconductor Products Sector

Rocky Racoon 100 Mile trail Run
(Five 20.2 mile loops)
2/3-4/01 - Huntsville, Texas
Joe Prusaitis

        I run with chaos and a few other old acquaintances through the trees.
The dark start and too many distractions carry me out without my good
sense, or my water bottle. Fortunately, I'm blessed with good company
and cool weather.  Dressed in long-sleeved shirt, short tights, hat, and
gloves, I'm quite comfortable. Minus the extra water weight, I'm feeling
light for a 192 pound carcass. Not that the leaves and roots underfoot
don't whine as I dance lightly across them. Archie Phillips and I talk a
bit as we pair up for our initial foray along the wide trail. I know
many of the wild animals, runners by any other name, but for the dark, I
can't find many of them. The cold feels good on my legs and face, and my
light helps keep me upright. As comfortable and easy as this feels, and
as slow as I think I'm moving, I know full well, I'm going faster than
is good for me on this first loop.
        This is my third time at the 'Coon. Both times prior, I ran 3:30 for
each of the first three loops. I don't expect any less, than for the
same thing to happen again. I can start fast or slow, run hot or cold,
make plans or run with none, but my body clock and timing chain follow a
greater plan than mine. Too fast or too slow, I've learned to accept it
as it is. Enjoying the day, I visit with Archie, and try not to think.
It's the fourth loop where things tend to change. The clock unwinds and
timing jumps track just as it gets dark,. The real grunt work begins
then. My only goal early on, is to finish loop three feeling good.
        A mile out, we cross a park road and tilt just a bit downhill on a
narrow tree covered single track. Of course, any downhill means we go
faster. That is, until we find the mud. Hard to tell in the dark exactly
what the best route is and I get splattered by someone next to me, not
so lucky with their chosen placement. The path twists about, crosses a
short wooden bridge with no side rails, and starts to undulate slightly
up and down. There are no big hills in this park, but there are quite a
few slight tilts that start to feel much larger as we make our later
loops. We roll onto a wide well maintained jeep road and make a left.
This is a long out-&-back, so I'll be back to this same spot in about
two miles. The first station is at this road's end, where we turn
around. The early morning dusk provides enough gray light for me to see
my buddies as they file past, either in front or behind.
        Paul Schmidt and Kevin Sayers are well in front of me, and enjoying the
day. Looks like it's going to be gorgeous, in the 40s with little wind
and no rain. The course keeps us mostly under the trees, so we'll have
plenty of shade. Mark Henderson shoots by, talking as fast as he's
running, like usual. This guy is pumped. I stop at the station and take
time to drink two full cups of water. I have a spare bottle waiting for
me at the next station, but for now, I'm still without, and load up just
a little. Going back down the road, I realize it can't be all uphill
going out, because it's uphill going back as well. Actually, it rolls
quite a bit, but the general trend is downhill going back. I connect
with Mark, from Colorado, when I inform him that these really are the
biggest hills he's going to see. In lieu of waiting to walk on the
hills, he might just consider these 'The Hills'. I'm attempting to walk
on these ever-so-gentle baby uphills, but it's tough right now, with my
energy level so peaked. Mark processes my warning and pulls up next to
me, walking. Many folks I know file past, yelling and making odd noises.
Hard to believe most of them are well educated and socially acceptable,
with the way they cuss, pass gas, and piss right here in front of each
other. These are my friends, my family, and buddies. This sort of
attitude may lead them to speak their mind and say what they think at
some of the most politically incorrect moments. Isn't it grand!
        Down a short steep hill, we run right past the place where we climbed
onto this road. Lots of sand here. Enough to start a good beach.
Spinning my wheels, I slow to a crawl and look for a way around, finding
no better escape than right through the middle. We climb the right side
and back onto another great single track as narrow and tree covered as
the last one. I feel so much better on single track and can't help but
pick up speed, because I just feel so good being on it. Mark hangs with
me as we begin to scoot along. Everything's hummin' pretty good and the
trail, covered with pine needles and bright leaves, is wonderful. Lots
of tree roots inch out of the ground, worn smooth by thousands of feet.
In the daylight, they're easy to see and avoid, but after dark, this
changes. Light from a flash just can't descry the difference between all
the shadows from leaves and roots. But that's later. For now, feeling
right and having fun, it's so hard to keep my pace down. Mark says he
plans on hitting four hours on the first loop. I laugh and tell him to
forget about it, because we're gonna land at 3:30 unless he starts
walking more. It's in the bones. I rolled the bones last night, and of
course, he doesn't believe me. His girlfriend's running also, and he
stops to steal a kiss each time they pass. Then comes back stronger than
before, filled with stolen energy and panache.
        Finding the dog leg jeep road that connects the dam to the park
boundary, we make a left on a very slight uphill. This is the beginning
of the long out-&-back that must be about six miles roundtrip. The
two-three station sits on the backside of the park, right where this
jeep road ends. It's up this road a piece, then a right on another dirt
road. If we go the wrong way to the left, it'll take us to the other
long out-&-back that we did earlier. Still being semi-coherent and
capable of understanding the large arrow signs, I turn right instead and
go the correct way. Lots of others are around us and all of them are
going this way also, but I know better than to trust that all the others
actually go the right way. Burned once, shame on me! I'm happy to be
going the same way, but will follow the directions, not the runners. The
next turn is easier, the park road bends to the right. The only other
option is to leave the park and I know we don't. In view, the station is
another 200 yards up the road, complete with burning campfire, right in
the middle of the road. Wes & Gina Monteith manage this station, and
they greet us as we come in. I ran this last year with Wes, and it's
killing him to not come along and join us. I stop for an ice-tea and
some Ensure, and remember to get my spare water bottle. I remove my
second shirt, and leave it with my gloves & flashlight in my drop bag.
                The jeep road disappears into single track immediately out of the
station. We drop down to a sandy bottom, then cross another wooden
bridge. Probably the only one in the park with side guard rails. A hill
awaits on the other side, which we walk slowly. This may be the steepest
hill on the course and that's not saying much. From here to the
turnaround is nothing but rolling hills. A mud bog or two needs to be
negotiated carefully, a tall-person filter forces all the tall folks to
duck, a few tree hurdles require some dexterity, but mostly this is a
fun, easy, and another great place to pinpoint where my pals are. The
turnaround waits at the bottom of a short descent with a clear view of
the trail off through the trees to the right that we're going to be on
again another five miles further down the trail. The thirty yards
separating the next five miles is almost intoxicating. Just think what
we would miss. Pity any poor misguided souls who might cheat themselves
the pleasure of all they will miss, and more.
        We retreat with gusto the same way we came. Thirty minutes to get here
from the station and the same to get back. I reacquaint with my trail
buddies while Mark collects a fresh kiss. In reference to quantity
versus quality, I think he's winning. Max & Dave are gaining on us and
tell me to wait, but they're moving so well, I know they're gonna catch
us before too long. We pass through Wes & Gina's station and continue on
back down the road. Finally, we pass the point where we began this
section, and on down to the dam. We skip off road to a trace trail
alongside the road. An afterthought of a trail, that hops a log and
winds between trees, is within feet of the road. In quick time, it drops
us back onto the short end of the jeep road. Mike Price reminds me that
it's still softer than the jeep road. Another 100 yards and we're at the
dam, slipping off road to the left. The trail runs along a creek,
crosses a few short bridges and then goes back up the other side of the
same creek. Not a bad little detour, on pine needles stacked pretty
deep. A very private and serene part of the woods. This short loop
climbs a short hill, putting us on the levee directly across from where
we were, just a short time ago. Directly across Lake Raven in another
direction is the finish area, a few hundred yards as the crocodile
swims, still six miles as the snail crawls.
        Mark & I are hanging with Mike along here and enjoying the day. The
levee is really the only place we have a clear view of the sky for the
entire run. All this open sky seems so bright and unusual. But it
doesn't last long before we're back in the trees and cruisin' again.
Single track trail for miles behind us and more ahead. Sure is sweet.
Rolling hills take us on a short steep root infested descent to one of
the long boardwalks. Crossing a swamp on this crooked but solid plank
walkway with no rails is always mildly entertaining during the day, and
quite stimulating after dark. The locals tells us that gators live in
the swamps, but I have yet to see one. The worst critters I've seen here
are the wasps, and even they're absent this year. After a very short
section of solid ground, we cross another longer boardwalk. More ground,
and another and then a couple short ones as we rotate between boardwalk,
single track, mud bog, and rolling hills. All of this hugs the shoreline
closely, on up to the last station prior to the loop finish. Lots of old
friends work this station, so it's like 'old home week' when we roll in
and get to see all our friends just hanging out in the woods to greet
us, feed us, and send us on our way. I'm enjoying all this attention.
        Only three miles to the end loop and it's all pretty good running
trail. Little rollers, a few short boardwalks, small mud bogs, and many
roots. Hard to believe that with all the mud bogs and swamps, that I
manage to avoid getting my feet wet and suffer only mud splash &
splatter spots. There's a few switchbacks and quick turns and even a
quick descent through a root maze to a swampy creek, but really, it's
some very nice trail to haul butt on. We turn back onto the main wide
trail near the end, which is the main out-&-back from the start. It's
about a mile long and winds, twists, rises, and dips, all in a very
wide, slow manner as if it was big wide old river. We ride this old
trail on back into home and the conclusion of round one. It's exactly
3:30!
        Mark has convinced me that it's now warm enough to switch to a short
sleeve shirt, so I do. My water bottle is waiting here for me right
where I left it, ready to go. I swap out my pill tin which holds just
enough succeed caps for one loop and down another ensure. I have a
basket of the fattest, most delicious blackberries waiting on ice with
my Arizona ice tea. Another favorite which I stash in my belt pocket
prior to leaving are a few of the nastiest, can't eat just one, girl
scout cookies. Hard to believe all this only takes me eight minutes to
accomplish and get moving again. Mark joins me again as we pull out for
loop number two. Max and David are only 5 minutes back now. We pass them
coming in just as we're going out.
        Mark & I are bouncing around Mike & Archie again. It's really turning
into a pleasant day. Not too cold, not too hot, but just right. The
first mile of the trail that takes us out is the same mile that we come
back in on. It rolls a bit, but it's wide enough for a truck. We go two
abreast, and still have room for people going the other way to pass.
After a mile, we cross a paved road, and get squeezed down onto a single
track. We rub elbows with the trees, leaning to avoid contact, while our
feet seek safe harbor between ruts, roots, and mud. Sure do like this
section. I always get a buzz on here, and the electricity makes my bod
go just a bit faster. Soon as my feet find the jeep road, the buzz dies,
and it feels like work again. Couple of miles of out-&-back again make
me want to cry. It might have been fun once or twice, but after all the
miles I've logged on this section, I only look to get through it, and
back to the single track. We drift into conversation and pay it no mind,
talking about Colorado and trails there. To the turn and back again, we
leave our bodies to the task, and visit Ouray and Telluride. We return
as soon as we climb back on the trail, and surge into buzz mode again.
My insane stride style is to barely slide across the ground, so I can
rub the roots smooth and clean all the rocks off the ground. I rarely
fall, so it must be magic, and you don't want to jack with anything
magic. I typically will continue like this until dark, with no trippage
whatsoever. But after dark, this all changes, and my mojo leaves me. I
begin to find the bottom of the roots and the rocks quit moving out of
the way. I think it's a damn shame, but such is life, and I just have to
deal with it.
        After another wonderful journey and more miles behind us, we exit the
trail for more jeep road. The air goes out of me. I should wear a
ponytail to hide the valve stem. It's much too obvious right now. We do
the jeep road while it does us, like a couple of soldiers on forced
march. Strait forward, right face march, strait ahead, right face, then
strait ahead to the station. Max and David finally catch up to us. I can
see them coming in just when I'm about to leave, so this time I wait. I
drink an ensure and sip on my ice tea while I watch them come in. I'm
sure we'll hang together for most of what's left of the day. Max and I
have run a few of these together already. We team up and run well
together. The best thing about this station is the single track trail
starting on the other side of it. It's still strait as an arrow, but it
rolls a bunch and the trees squeeze in on us again. Much more cozy and
nice. Great mud holes to wade through, a few ruts and rollers to slip in
and out of, and even one good leaning tree that will bonk you in the
head, followed by a hurdle appropriately placed such that you're head is
down from ducking. I don't care much for out-&-backs, but at least it's
single track. It forces us in tight to everyone going the other way, so
you can reach out and pinch them as they go by. This will be specially
fun at night.
        Our gang of four really gets rolling through here. I'm bombing the
downhills, David's strong on the uphills, and Max picks it up whenever
neither of us is pushing the pace. So we got this power train thing
going with all four of us hanging tight. Mark and I are going faster
now, so those two must have been really going when we jumped onboard
with them. Max tells me they got stuck behind the pack at the start,
forcing them to go much slower than they wanted to for the first few
miles. I was wondering how I got a ten minute gap on him early. We pass
back through the station and on down the road, running faster than I had
previously run any of the jeep road sections. One of the fast guys who
was way in front of us is coming back up the road from the wrong way. He
obviously missed this turn and lost some time and a mile or more, but
appears to be handling it well. He's with us for a very short time and
then pulls ahead. Back on trail, I leap into the lead, and pull the
train for a while. From here back to the base camp must be about eight
miles, and it's all good running, single track, with enough
entertainment, rides, shows, and eye candy  to keep me smiling all the
way back home. Someplace in the middle, we pass through another aid
station. We slow down to make a sharp left turn, and sprint the final
three miles to the conclusion of loop two in the exact same time as we
did for the first loop. 3:30 again and feeling good.
        We're still good to go, with no changes in gear, clothes, or anything
else, so we escape again quickly. All four still chugging along,
laughing and tossing jokes. Mark has slipped to the back and appears to
be struggling with this new pace, while the rest of us have found some
sort of odd rhythm in this wild dance that we're doing. The three of us
ran most of 50 miles together at Arkansas just this last fall, so we are
all quite comfortable with each others peculiarities. We seem to be
slowing on the uphills some, and jointly decide to start walking all the
uphills. We we're walking some of them already, but sometimes, we forget
or somebody's pushing us through a favorite trail, or something. So, we
decide to walk every uphill. We cruise the jeep road, up and back, and
walk the sand pit at the bottom. Back on trail, we pick it up. My fault,
I'm sure, but we stick it through to the next jeep road and then Wes &
Gina's two-three aid station. We do the out-&-back a little slower this
time. It feels like we're moving faster, when we are in fact moving
slower. Must be approaching that time in a run when things quit working
so well. We maintain our same odd pattern and charge on round the lake
for the third time. We lose Mark someplace in here. He falls behind a
few times, but either we slow or he speeds back as we act like an
accordion a few times, before he falls off for good. Now we are three.
We roll in to Mickey's command post for the third time with a 3:45 loop.
Still very good, but with just enough slippage to let us know the fast
times are gone. If we could hold onto that pace, we'd kick hell out of
one fast time, but I know where this is leading. It's getting late, but
we have plenty of time to change into our night gear before we go out
again.
        Last year, I froze my buns off here, after the third loop, when the
temps followed the sun as it dropped. My wife, Joyce, crewing for me,
insisted I change into my winter woolies. She was so right and I was so
glad I had the good sense to listen. Joyce didn't come with to
Huntsville this year, but I still remember last year. I take the time to
change into long tights, two long-sleeve coolmax shirts, and gloves.
Water & feeding includes Arizona ice tea, Ensure, blackberries, and a
quarter wedge of  sandwich. Max was here also last year and makes his
adjustments as well. David got damned cold at Arkansas last fall, due to
his minimalistic planning, and I would have thought he'd be better
prepared this time. He only adds a long sleeve shirt, and cotton gloves.
Loaded up, we giddy-up out of there, feeling good. Our timing is pretty
close to what it was last year, so we expect to lose the light within an
hour. It's still a bit warm, and I'm generating a load of heat, so I'm
sweating like a pig with all this extra clothes on. Way over dressed,
and feeling a bit foolish, I peel one shirt off, roll up the sleeves on
the other, and stash my gloves. I feel much better immediately. Max
stops to peel a few layers also, and now David is looking more like a
veteran than we. By the time we reach the aid station turnaround on the
jeep road, the sun sinks quickly and leaves us using the moonlight. We
have lights but decide to go without as long as we can, enjoying the
look & feel of things as they are. Shadows overlap each other as we
dance through them on the jeep road. We can make out enough of the road
for about a mile before the dark is complete and the lights reluctantly
go on.
        This run consists of five 20mile loops, but I always break it into two
parts: day and night. We start in the dark, get to daytime pretty quick,
and then run in the dark for the final two loops. The fourth loop seems
to be key. The first three are easy, and the fourth is where everything
changes. Night brings a temperature drop, I change clothes, carry more
gear, including lights, and my body starts talking to me. I lose my
depth perception when all the colors turn to shades of gray, and I start
to really tighten up and trip. Each time I trip, my muscles tighten, and
the more I tighten, the more I trip. All of this exacerbated by the
cold. It's an ugly endless downward spiral. I'm still feeling good, but
Max must be taking some good drugs, because he starts to really hammer.
He takes lead and surges, pulling us with him. Dave and I put out heads
down, remain silent, and try to hold on. It's difficult, because Max
appears to be on a mission. Nobody's talking and saying nothing real
loud. What the heck got into Max? I wonder if we gave him some gap,
would he drop us and go? Probably not, but he's convincing us to hang on
without saying a thing. The back side station is changing face. Scott
Eppelman is working now, and Wes has left to pace the lady who's in the
lead. I need a recharge, so I stop for another ensure, and to drop off
my extra shirt. In my current overheated state, one seems to be working
fine. They stop just ahead in the woods to wet the grass and wait for
me. I certainly wouldn't be moving this fast if not for Max, and haven't
decided yet if I'm grateful or not. The ride is anything but free, as
I'm working my buns off. I will be thankful later I'm certain, but right
now, I'm not so sure. Max pulls us all the way down and back. I'm
feelin' the love now. The lights are on, but nobody's home. Silently,
Max keeps the train rolling.  We're not passing anybody, but the folks
near behind us are falling further and further back. All except one guy
wearing a funny lookin' red hat, who catches us just after the turn.
We're moving faster than him on the downhills, so he falls off on the
downs, but catches us as we slow on the ups. We do this back & forth for
a little ways, and because I'm the caboose on this single track, he gets
right on my butt. I'd move over, but then we're going to pass him on the
next downhill. I suggest we try to pick it up just a little so we don't
have to mess with this guy who is obviously slower than us on everything
but the uphills. Together, all four of us get back to the station, when
I realize it's the current leader, Blake Wood, a full lap in front of
us.
        We leave in stealth mode, me having said way too much already. Max
keeps on pulling. Amazed by his endurance, I keep thinking he's gonna
slow, but he doesn't. This loop is a blur. Darkness hides everything
except the ground where our lights touch. Since Blake, there is nobody,
and nothing but night sounds surround us. The pounding of our feet have
been replaced by occasional grunts, when one of our feet meets an
immovable object. The long boardwalks across the swamp are always more
fun at night. I love the sound of life around a pond at night. It drowns
out everything else. In awe of his energy, we steal as much as we can
from Max as he drags us in his wake. What is it? How can he keep going
like this? We plunge through the last station and have just three miles
before the Mickey station and the culmination of loop four. With less
than two miles to go, it happens. Max finally runs dry. He slows to a
crawl. I think he's just adjusting to the terrain but it's not so. He's
on empty. I'm just now finally getting my energy back up, so I jump in
front for the first time on this loop, and get us going again. It's my
turn now. Max slips back and hangs on. We're back in and done with loop
four in 4:25. It sure seemed much faster, and would have been so much
slower had Max not dragged us round like he did. We have only one loop
to go and I want to get out quick so we can get after it. I tell the
guys to adjust quick as I'm not gonna make any changes. I stop for an
ensure and to put in new batteries. Tom Crull stops by to help me, so I
give him my light while I drink and get another tin of Succeed caps. I
continue to pop these every hour. And I still have a few girl scout
cookies left, but the blackberries are gone. Tom gives me my light and I
start walking out with Dave when I realize my light doesn't work. I take
the top off and find it broken. I go back to my van and Tom tries to fix
it, but it's hosed. Finally, he gives me his LED light and off I go to
catch Dave. I catch up to him in ten minutes only to discover Max is
still behind us. We keep walking, waiting for Max, all the way up to the
road. With a mile of walking and the cold winter night creeping in, I'm
really starting to get cold. We start to run slowly to keep warm, hoping
that Max will soon join us as we know he will. We're almost to the jeep
road when he suddenly comes up on us out of the dark and blasts past us
like a madman. He doesn't slow a bit, but just keeps right on going, up
the big hill right at the beginning of the jeep road and all the rest,
right to the end. We try to catch him, but there just ain't no way!
We're gonna trash ourselves trying, so we back off some. I can see him
way ahead, and decide to just go after him, so I pick it up and start
sprinting. After eighty miles, I'm running way too damn hard, and
feeling every bit of it. I'm amazed as much by Max as I am by Dave and
my own ability to pull this insane stunt off. It's all mental and Max is
really workin' us now. There's no way I would have done that mad dash
without some motivation. As fast as he's going, I catch him, and then
back off to run next to him into the station. Dave follows us in
closely. That was insane! What the heck was that all about? Max replies
'I got it going to catch you and just didn't feel like slowing down just
yet'. It must be 32 degrees out right now and the sweat is pouring off
my face and back. A woman using a rolling pin to work out leg muscles,
rolls all three of us. Max says it's the best, but I guess I'm just not
getting it. I chill starts to ripple through my body, and I immediately
start running out of there. Hypothermia is just a short trip away, and I
need to keep moving to ward it off. The others follow soon after.
        We leave there much slower than coming in. Side by side we stroll back
down the jeep road for the last time. By the time we reach the trail,
Dave has taken lead and keeps it. I pull in behind him and Max behind
me. I'm shot, and I wonder what kind of burst, if any, is Max gonna do
next. He's on and off with amazing extremes today, and would not
surprise me whatever he did. Dave has taken command for the time and
seems to be doing great, holding a steady pace, keeping us rolling. Thus
we remain on out of the woods and into the back nine station. They have
an enormous blaze in the road and we avoid it as best we can, skirting
the edge and past it. On through to the last long out-&-back. We reach
the final turnaround and start back, when suddenly Dave goes down in
pain. He's twisted his ankle or knee badly and is struggling to walk. He
tries to run, finding he can't run the downhills at all. Then he loses
the uphills too, and intends to walk. Walking in this weather, he'll
freeze, so I tell him to take my spare gloves and jacket from my drop at
the next station. As much as I feel for him, at this point, there is
nothing more I can do, so I wish him luck and start running again. I
thought Max was going to come with, but he stays back to help Dave get
into the next station. I'm completely alone for the first time today.
Feels strange at first, but then I get the buzz on again and start to go
faster. I slow for the last two-three station, but don't stop. I skim
through for the last time and keep on flying. A truck is stuck in the
road sideways, bottomed out in the sand, and I have to climb an
embankment to get around it. That truck's going to be there awhile,
buried up to the axle. I make time to the dam, around the short loop,
onto the levee, back to the final long section of woods in a blur. The
wheels are spinning good, and then my nose is buried in the leaves. What
happened? My right foot is screaming at me, so I wait for the throb to
subside before I get back up. I glance over, but can't find the culprit
that put me down. Back up and on my horse, I start spinning again. Feels
good to see the long boardwalks again. Actually, every little landmark
feels good right now, because I know I'm not gonna see any of it again.
This is my last round and I'm smellin' the barn. I'm doing pretty good
staying upright and skimming the swamps, bogs, and hazards all the way
back into the last station before the end. Mark Henderson is there when
I come in, having finished long ago, he's checking into his tent for the
night. I take the time to congratulate him, and then on to the barn.
        I start pushing even harder, uphills, downhills, underhills, through
the hills, between the hills until I get completely worn out less than
five minutes out of the station, and have to walk. I was getting so
excited about being done, but I'm not done yet, and getting way ahead of
myself. So, I start  running again, and try to manage my emotions just a
little better. I get a good roll going, and take it on in, checking off
each tree, waiving goodbye to each briar bush, and each bridge. Then I
hit the final out-&-back truck wide trail and cut loose. Flying low with
lights off and brain in sleep mode. I could kill somebody if I'm not
careful, but thankfully, very few people are here. I pass Mark walking
with his girlfriend, and I'm glad to see he's partnered up with her for
the duration. He wishes me well as I skim by. Flying in for the final
landing. I hit the road and sprint all out for the finish line. Max is
less than thirty minutes back, with Dave another thirty behind him.

Chess board is set - Pieces in place
Start in darkness - Ending the same
Daylight advance - Then steals away
This game of chance - Runs thru my day

Slipping forward - 'Tween dark & day
Dawn's just reward - Shadow & shade
Morning dances - Cold root & leave
Twisted branches - Tug at my sleeve

Improve my gait  - Lighten the load
More water waits  - Down the dun road
Alliance made    - Join together
Compliance played - Cooler weather

King at times - Today's pawn
Queen's gambit - Gone til dawn
Sans water - Left behind
In the truck - Don't remind

'Nother fair test - Within my mind
Adventure's best - Comfort behind
Strategies fly - Ideas unfold
Impunities  die - Intentions sold

Shoes for function - Clothes that fit
Constant motion - Dry southern wit
Hot food & water  - Plan for success
Avoid slaughter  - Undue duress

Mind moves body - Perceptions trick
Drink hot coffee - Some potions click
Custom's comfort - Change sires pain
Live with what works - Suffer in vain

Knight & rook - Rank & file
Dirt & root - Muddy trail
Trippin' Toes - Sudden flight
Bloody nose - Stay upright

Find an old friend - Gather two more
Far from the end - Now we are four
First round-trip rocks - Three & thirty
Sand in my sock - Feet are dirty

Wheels are turning - Dream goals are met
Cold sweat burning - To soaking wet
Dark winter black - Fire-engine red
Clothing jumps track - Humor's well fed

Sucking of GU - Searching the soul
Making our move - Taking our toll
All the Queen's men - Line in a row
Verbal jousting - Foul wind we blow

Lights are bright - Clothes are smart
Gettin' tight - Missing mark
Achin' all - Foretell pain
Trip & fall -  One more stain

Second trip round - Mirrors the first
Three-thirty down - Heat driven thirst
Fast kinetics - Family fate
Old genetics - Arrive in shape

Dave pushes up - I pull us down
Others warm up - Day is beat down
Day swiftly flies - Singing old songs
Tell bald faced lies - Yelling to long

Third cycle through - Three-forty-four
Sand in my shoe - Raring for more
Daylight spent fast - Dark on it's way
Muscles might last - Attitudes fray

Soldiers dread - Mark is lost
Shadows spread - Dims to dusk
Fair struggle - Camaraderie
Fall behind - Won't be me

Moved by potion  - Max takes the lead
Quest in motion - New vision speed
Wise to rhythm - And having none
Us behind him - Run hill & down

In an instance - Grand Max is gone
Lasting moon dance - Is short of done
I jump to front  - The last three miles
Four-thirty-one  - Four ends in smiles

Dream goal - No delay
Don't fold - Now away
Imagine some - In earnest scoff
Difference none - If wheels fall off

Dave only - Max follows
Walk slowly - Hope hollow
Growing mold - Holding Huns
Growing cold - Resolve runs

Last romancing - Move like a snail
Darkly dancing - Pale campaign trail
All a sudden - Max surges past
He moves shadows - Not us that fast

Finally catching - By the dirt road
Yet with  many - More miles to go
Cold pouring sweat - Soaking with chill
Too much we bet - Go on we will

Chessboard barren - Few troops remain
Now we're sharin' - Each other's pain
Quiet less agile - Together alone
Wounded fragile - Struggle on home

I know where - Old dogs roam
They run alone - With the moon
Cross dank swamp - Boardwalks frail
Mud bog romp - One track trail

Dave takes over - Our final charge
Verve & vigor - Head down, heart large
Silence follows - Zombies with hope
Climb the gallows - Dopes on a rope

Then in a twist - Satire's bad luck
Sarcasm's Lisp - Laughs at our pluck
With only 10 miles - No more remain
Fate pulls our friend - Down in some pain

Soldiers will fall - Battles don't quit
Starting to stall - Urge in a snit
Sadly part ways - My turn to crack
Thoughts in a maze - Hit the road jack

Max hangs back - Give Dave aid
Pace on track - Judgment made
Choice we choose - Homeward greed
Madman loose - Charge full speed

Wild & Reckless - Covered with mud
Blind & Feckless - Searching for blood
Boot finds a root - My face finds dirt
Care not a hoot - Run 'til I hurt

Seek sleep - And queen
So deep - Good dream
No pain - Dead state
End game - Check Mate