Shooting tumors

How did I spend my Sunday morning?  Running.  And shooting tumors.

I started off from my house around 7:15AM, yogged to "the commune" (a amusing name for the two-seperate-apartment-house that my friends live in and essentially treat as a single residence... I am "the-neighbor-who-is-always-there" in this sitcom) where there was a fresh oatmeal and blueberries aid station.  Not to mention coffee (thank you Peter).  Twenty minutes later, I was out the door with Nick, for more errands (a stop at the ATM) and the jog to the Midge Cramer entrance to Bald Hill Park for the Tumor Shooter Big Tumor (the 7-miler; there was also a "Little Tumor" 3-miler)!

This race was mandatory in my mind.  A locally beloved, professional caliber runner, and all-around great chica is battling a brain tumor.  And if she could get more awesome, she also loves Brooks.  Never mind that she has not been living in Corvegas for over a year.  She loved it here, and we loved having her here.  My training partner, Meghan (who is now wicked fast and primed for a sub 2:45 marathon at Napa in a few weeks) is one of her best friends and biggest champions.  Anywho, when her cancer came back a few months ago, she found herself in between jobs and without health insurance for long enough to rack up some major bills (one month...).  So, 100% of the race entry fees went straight to JoHa.  And the other reason this race was mandatory for me, I like to race.... in the mud.

Let the running begin!  Someone get that girl a tan.

I had a "tempo" bit scheduled during my long run anyway, not 7-miles of tempo, but whatever.  Over the hills, and "shoe-suckingly" muddiness (that's right, I got the paper to print those exact words!), and single-track, watching Nick's back slowly pull-away in the second half (he sped up, I did not slow down).  In case you are curious, I'll jump past the punchline.  I won... a giant pink cookie!

Oh, sweet Jesus!  Sorry Clif, I fueled my yog home with refined sugar.

Thanks to Patrick for the excellent pictures, and Nick for the ride home.  He saved me from the last three miles that would have made my long-run just over three-miles too long.