8 Years, 8 Hours, 8 Minutes

A scenic spot for a stick chewing break

My best friend, Scot the Border Collie, turned 8 years old on May 8th. He doesn't know that, but I figured since our favorite thing is long trail runs, what could be a better celebration for both of us. I needed a good long run for the upcoming Jemez 50 miler, and Scot thinks EVERY day should be spent running ALL day.
    So I loaded up the pack with provisions and we left the house right at noon. I packed the headlamp just in case, which was good, because we needed it. We ran the 3.5 miles from the house to the trailhead, then up the Dry Fork trail to the Colorado Trail. I had planned on roughly eight hours of running, however far that got us. There was less snow than I anticipated (a lot has melted since going up there last week) and we made good time to the bridge over Junction Creek. Past that there were a few creek crossings, some cool cascades, and then this amphitheater with a nice little waterfall. Good stuff. I wanted to keep going... for days. Maybe to Denver.
    Luckily the sensible part of me said turn around about 4 hours and 30 minutes into it. We cruised the fast gentle downhill back to the bridge, and then started the looong climb back out of the creek drainage. Then it was back downhill towards Dry Fork. This is where I started to hurt. I wondered if this was too far for a training run less than two weeks from Jemez. I wondered if I was damaging myself. Then I thought about Hardrock. "It is going to be so much harder and more painful than this!" I told myself. Even if it means my ego will suffer from running slow at Jemez, the training is all about Hardrock. I love having a big goal. It adds importance to stupid little things, like which socks to wear.
   As we cruised down the Dry Fork trail Scot was still sprinting every time he heard a Chicory squirrel. He HATES that sound. I could barely shuffle and he's sprinting! Maybe if I had four legs and only weighed 40 pounds ultras wouldn't hurt so much. I was carrying his food for him, I suppose.
   So we hit the gravel road and I put on the headlamp. Only three and a half miles, mostly downhill, and we can eat copious amounts of food! As we got to the parking area of our house I hit the stop button on the watch. 8:08.37 it read. Eight years old on the eighth, and we ran for eight hours and eight minutes. We were actually out for nine hours, but 8:08 was the "moving time" the rest being spent doing trail work, refilling water, and taking photos.
   As we laze around this morning I feel pretty good for having done about 37 miles yesterday. Scot looks to be doing even better though. He is the athlete I always wanted to be. Strong, focused, and full of enthusiasm. Happy birthday, Scot.