it was a long day.
12 miles running with 501, work, dinner, and then volunteering at Woodstock from 10 PM to 4 AM.
The only thing I needed to do for volunteering was make sure a warm body (mine) was there just in case it was necessary (it kinda wasn't) and try to stay awake.
Not many finishers came in between 10 PM and 4 AM. In fact, I know of only two, and one of them was a... jackass is probably the best term.
17 year old kid, maybe, but he cut corners (at least one) and came in first as a finisher for the 100 mile, and when he was told so, didn't protest that he couldn't have finished first. He (and his girlfriend) seemed awfully eager to leave.
Ten minutes later, when the real first place finisher came in and the poser was confronted, he dropped all pretense and said he thought that he must've made a wrong turn.
I don't know if the kid had run 99 miles, 29 miles, or whatever. I have felt the mental confusion that comes from prolonged exercise. He didn't have it. What I did see was a sort of shame that keeps someone from enjoying a prize he didn't earn, and hopefully some sense of gratitude that in the end he didn't didn't get away with it.
Thankfully, the real winner got the rewards. But it was a surreal way to end a rather long day.
On the plus side, as I listened to Moby Dick on audiobook, inbetween chapters I started writing down various thoughts about running in the style of Herman Melville. I thought they were pretty amusing, so I may continue, and possibly post them here.