Rich, figuring out the timing may be a bit inconvenient, but what do you think of the idea of doing fast-finish MP runs by running before the start of a race -- say, doing 6mi (or whatever) warm-up timed to lead into a 10-mile race, and then run that race at MP -- I mean, assuming the goal is to accomplish an MP-10 run like you mentioned elsewhere? I've not done the above myself -- I've only run after a race (to get distance in after my 16mi Annapolis race, and after the LPR-10 yesterday) -- but it seems to me that it would be better to run extra beforehand, so as to get more practice already being a bit tired going into the race.

Sunday made me realize that my marathon training would have benefited immensely from competing in a long yet fast race (ie, a 10-miler or a half marathon) some time during January or February. So Rick, I may be interested in that trail 10-miler you mentioned. The only tricky part will be arranging my long runs around the race --- meaning I wouldn't want to run any significant distance the week before the race.

I'm aiming to get there around 4:45 or 5pm, work willing. "Traffic" makes the actual timing uncertain.

On Saturday I returned to the old Piney Point Lighthouse for a long run and essentially ran the 10-mile race course --- plus five extra miles (instead of making the U-turn on 249 just 100 yards from the Lighthouse Rd junction, I kept going almost all the way to Tall Timbers, and later, after running the left branch of St. George's Island, I took the right branch, all the way to Camp Merryelande). The weather was beyond blustery, what with the stone gray sky and the winds gusting up to 40 mph --- especially as I approached the far tips of the island. It was easy to mistake the weather for a day of wicked winter rather than fair fall! Towards the end, I hit 13 miles almost exactly where the eight-mile marker had been placed on Sunday, so the final two miles of the long run were exactly the same as the final two miles of the race! I didn't particularly care for that sort of ... deja vu. And, somewhere around mile 10, the soles of my feet had started feeling uncharacteristically brittle, making me wonder if it was too soon after the LPRMXM race to be tackling my longest long run since the marathon. Nonetheless I finished 15 miles in 2:10:47 (8:44/mi). Ah, I've missed going on runs that leave your face beat red from cold wind chafing. I'd been entertaining the notion of taking a sunset kayak cruise around the Piney Point area immediately after my run (it was about 4 p.m. when I finished), but the whipping winds and the small craft advisory --- not to mention my fatigue --- forced me to scrap that lofty ambition. I awoke today, however, with an uncompromising determination to get my paddle on. To avoid the wild waves waging war indefinitely across wide open bodies of water due to the ongoing wind crisis, I headed down to Great Mills to launch from a public platform along the St. Mary's River (where it's only about 30 feet wide and bordered by dense woods). I thought I'd be setting forth upon a relaxing, tranquil, lethargically lazy river --- and I was wrong! Upon dragging my boat down to the platform, I gawked at the sight of a rushing, rocky, RAPIDS-choked water way. Seriously, I tossed a twig into the water and watched it zoom away downstream. Trying not to think of how I was supposed to eventually make it back upstream, I awkwardly got down into the kayak from the platform (which was at least two feet above the fast-moving water) and took off after that twig. It really was rapids! Well, at least Class 1, I imagine. The swirling currents --- caused mainly by the humps of rocky riverbed that rose up in the middle of the lane --- were constantly combating me, causing me to pivot into the banks at jarring angles. Even as I passed under the Rt. 5 bridge (right before the big Sheetz station). Then, just as I was getting the hang of things, I beheld a most alarming obstacle: a (beaver's?) dam, stretching from steep bank to steep bank, with only one narrow break in it. Was this the end of the line? Never! I paddled up slowly, judged the height of the gushing "waterfall" to be just slightly over two feet, backed up, got a "running start" and then flew down the tiny Niagara with a hoot of exhilaration. Getting down the fall really was a brief blast --- but maybe I should have paused to consider the difficulties inherent in kayaking back up a waterfall ... After a few more bends, the water lane widened considerably and truly became a lazy river. And the next thing I knew, I was paddling past a water's edge trailer park --- including the requisite truck tire languishing in the water. After that I passed by some shanty shacks peeking through the trees and even encountered a couple rough-looking fishermen. All these views were making me regret watching Deliverance last night (I really did!). I didn't hear any banjos dueling, though, so I wasn't too ... fearful. Finally, after exploring some reeds, I decided it was time to turn back (based on Google's satellite map, I was less than half a mile away from St. Mary's River proper when I made my retreat). The return trip went beautifully --- until I got back to the damn DAM! Now it was time to be strategic. Paddling back up that roaring little waterfall was beyond physically impossible, so what was I to do? I pulled up and got out on a narrow strip of rocky shore, scanned my surroundings, and determined that my only hope was to ... climb. Propping my 11 foot vessel vertically against the steep, cliff-like bank, I tenuously began climbing upwards --- finding scarce purchase due to the savagely sharp THORNS that covered the earthen wall --- whilst dragging my trusty kayak upwards behind me in the process (it only weighs 45 pounds) and trying to retain the paddle and my water bottle. It was tense, gritty business, to be sure, and only after a judicious share of thorn scrapes on my legs (and almost losing grip and falling backwards once) did I attain the thicket-covered crest of the cliff. Then the trick was to carefully guide the boat along the narrow, uneven ledge of the cliff until we, er, I was past the dam. And then it was a matter of "sledding" the kayak back down the steep bank, at which point I had no choice but to jump down and get soaking wet halfway up to my knees. And THEN I had a vicious fight with a log that endeavored to snag the boat. I really thought the nightmare would be over after that, but there was still more turbulence ahead. With the Rt. 5 bridge in sight, I broke into a furious paddle --- only to collide head-on with an all-powerful rapid current. I went into a frenzy, paddling so hard that I was probably risking a hernia. But I made absolutely no forward progress. I merely managed to resist getting swept backwards! As the Joker would say, this is what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. Runners: imagine attempting to run against a wind so powerful that, despite your most ardent effort, the best you can do is run in place. Anyways, there was nothing else to do but get out a couple times drag the kayak where paddling it was impossible (the water was never as high as my knees). FINALLY I made it back to that platform, and after crawling out of the boat I all but collapsed upon the wooden planks. I probably looked like the traumatized lone survivor in one of those wilderness-set horror/thriller movies like The Descent or ... Deliverance. I found out later that that kayak launch platform isn't really intended for people making out-and-back "round trips," but rather for those who set out there and then get picked up at various points downstream. Now I know why!

Oh my, that's exactly why I avoided wide open bodies of water this weekend!

I have no training to speak of during my two week off period. That is, of course, unless eating mountains of Doritos and drinking Coke Zero qualifies as training. Alden and I begin our marathon training on Sunday with a five week base mileage period, to get us back to running over 30 miles a week before launching into actual training.

LPR in March.