Desert RATS Trail Running Festival 50 mile: Apparently there's crying in ultrarunning

When I first heard about ultra-running, I thought "Cool. Great way to combine my two passions: running and eating." Just running and running all day long. Going from aid station to aid station, all stocked with fruit, cookies, sandwiches, pizza, m&ms and chips. Sounds like a good time! Turns out, there's a bit more to it than that. First of all, there's nothing appealing about solid food when you've been running in the sun for hours on end. There's also the fatigue to be dealt with, both physical and mental, the blisters, the pumped-out, over-worked leg exhaustion, and...oh yeah, that pesky ENDLESSNESS. Still, I had the most awesome time doing it!

The days leading up to my race were filled with fretting about the weather, worrying about getting sick, repeatedly interrogating Brian (who rides Fruita frequently) about the Kokopelli trails until I had a complete description of the course. I anguished over every detail just to have something solid to occupy my brain until the race started. Needless to say, I was nervous! On race-day morning, my family and I ate breakfast at the hotel. I sat very quietly, trying to eat at least half of a banana, just listening to the other runners' conversations in the room. I quickly found that I was in a room full of genuine bad-asses. I overheard a woman talking about her fifth Leadville 100, and her third Wasatch 100, and the other runners all commiserated. "Oh yeah, I remember my fifth Leadville. My 10th Leadville was much better. Finally got that sub-24." Oy ve! I was hanging with the wrong crowd. So this is the conversation that took place in my brain during breakfast: "Hi guys, today is my first 50. Actually it's my first over-30. And it's also my first trail run over 16 miles." *wince*

*condescending looks* "Um, what are you doing here?"

Then I started to cry. Not in my head, but in real life. I cried at breakfast. Very subtly, I doubt anyone but Brian noticed, but still, grrr...what a freak!

After that, I pulled on my big-girl panties and got in the car. Brian drove to the race and accompanied me to the port-o-potty and the start. The race started, I said good-bye and started running. The race began with a long switchbacky climb up the Moore Fun trail. When the 2000 foot climb ended, I looked around and the scenery was amazing. All fears subsided. The descent was awesome. Super technical, but really fun. At the bottom was the first aid station and surprise! Brian and Jonas. The next section was amazing! We ran a section of Mary's Loop which is a high shelf above the Colorado River. The trails were smooth, fast and rolling. I felt great. I found a small group of women to run with and it made the time pass quickly. The next aid station was mile 9.2, the Pizza Overlook. I filled my 12 oz bottle and grabbed a couple banana slices and pressed on. The next section wound along the rim of the river and the view was awesome.

The sun was out in full force now. There wouldn't be another aid station for 7 miles. This leg proved to be long! It was rolling, but never very steep. I fell in with some slower people and told myself not to pass because it was so early in the race. In retrospect, I should have gone on ahead because I was feeling good and I could have gained ground during that section. I eventually passed them and came into the Troy Built aid station at 19.2 miles. My skin was really red so someone sprayed sunscreen on me, I grabbed more bananas, took an Endurolyte and trudged on up the hill. This was a bu-RUTAL climb. It was steep, long and on a jeep road, so the scenery was less than stellar here. I couldn't believe I was less

halfway there. I was feeling pretty discouraged. When I entered the singletrack again, Mack Ridge trail, I brightened a bit. The climb was more mellow and the incredible views returned. The Mack Ridge descent was really fun but my shins were beat. The next aid station would be the start/finish/turnaround. There were a ton of 25 mile runners around me that were really picking up the pace coming into the finish of their race. I kept holding back, knowing I still had a long way to go. I was surprised and elated to see Brian when I came out of Mack Ridge onto the road. He said to go on ahead to the aid station and he'd stay in that spot with my refills and compression socks. I ran the 1.3 miles down the hill to the start/finish aid station and grabbed a few things to eat and refilled all my water. This aid station was a hard one to stop at because there were so many people finishing their 25 mile race. I wanted to stop so badly. It didn't help that this race allowed 50 mile entrants an official 25 mile time if they chose not to go on at this point. Turns out, a lot of runners took them up on this. Only 46 of the 72 people who entered the 50 actually went on to finish it.

So, mini-meltdown, then I got the hell out of that aid station. I ran back up that hill toward Brian crying. Yes, crying. Again. How many freaking times was I going to cry on this trip? The 1.3 mile climb to Brian was steep and long. He gave me the compression socks. My legs were all pumped-out and shaking as I pulled them on. It was hard to say goodbye, but I trudged up Mack Ridge, keeping my thoughts on the next aid station. Zeke tried to follow me and I really wanted him to come, but I still had 24 miles left. I don't know if I mentioned this, but the course was 2x 25 mile loops. The second loop was run in the opposite direction so I got to see the people behind me. Many of them were 25 mile runners, and some were 50 mile runners that would not go on after the halfway point. I was one of the last 50 milers to finish and make the cut off, so this loop would prove to be lonely. I was grateful to see the folks at the Troy Built aid station again. Just under 32 miles, already longer than I had ever run in my life. The next aid station was a long 7 miles away and I would see no one. This is were I slowed the most. I walked a lot of the hills that I knew I could run and basically stopped caring about everything. I was so pissed! I don't know what I was pissed about. I think it was the fact that the aid station was so far off. It didn't even seem real. The heat was now at its worst. I felt like I was stranded in the middle of nowhere and I would never see another human again. All I could hope was that a mountain biker would find my dead body in the trail and notify the next aid station. I even contemplated hucking myself off a cliff into the river around 36-38 miles. I got over this feeling by holding onto a piece of wisdom someone once gave me about ultras. "It never always gets worse." It was true. There were peaks and valleys. I would bonk, then recover, bonk, then recover. During the hard times I kept faith in the fact that I would rise out of it. It helped to mentally make peace with the lows. I told myself it was tolerable, that I could stay here. When I wondered what I was doing out there and searched for a way out, I reminded myself that this is what I love. This is life and this is how I love to live. This is where I am happiest. The discomfort became almost comforting and eventually I felt good again.

Finally that illusive aid station turned up. I had been in such a funk for the last 7 miles that I forgot to eat my Honey Stingers, which I meant to take every 10 minutes. I drank water like crazy after diagnosing myself with dehydration (I had not peed in 6+ hrs). I kept taking Endurolytes, but my timing was off. I meant to take 1-2 per hour, but I kept forgetting whether or not I had taken them when my watch reached each new hour. The aid station gave me a chance to refuel. I refilled my water, took some GU with caffeine and a few ounces of Coke, bananas and chips and got going again. The next aid station was only 3.3 miles from there so motivation returned. I don't remember that next aid station. But I do remember that I peed shortly after. I focused on Brian and Jonas, who would be at the next one roughly 3 miles away. It was a long 3 miles. I stubbed my toe and ripped one of the toenails back. There was a giant blister under that nail so I took one of the safety pins off my bib number and popped, then taped it. It was incredibly hard to get my sock back on as my leg was shaking. Future reference: never stop and sit down! Try to tape blisters and pee while standing.

I came down the hill and saw Brian and Jonas. I only had 5.9 miles to go, but that seemed far considering the giant mountain ahead. And I knew it might take me 2 hours to get there. I had 2 hours and 5 minutes left before the cut-off. I got a popsicle and Coke. Notice my nutrition going to crap, but I didn't care. Sugar would do. I forgot to eat my Honey Stingers and take my GU on the last section. I peed 2 more times so I must have overhydrated. Moore Fun was definitely more fun to descend... Longest climb of my life. I equated it to doing Section 16 four times in a row. Again, I cried. Not really cried, as I didn't have energy. More like shook and whimpered as I lumbered up the ridge. There were a few spots where I had to crawl up the rocks because I could not raise my legs high enough to step. When the neverending climb ended, I could see the highway. It was far below and the cars looked like tiny specs but I knew the finish was near the highway so I just winced and bombed down the hill as hard as I could. It was another technical descent and my form was crap. I would have rolled down if I thought it was faster. Every step sent excruciating pain up my shins and quads. I was totally out of control.

The singletrack ended and the road began. The finish was only a mile or so away and I saw a woman ahead of me. I didn't care about passing her, but when I saw her walk a few times I decided I would try to catch her. I ran the rest of the dirt road to the finish as hard as I could, which meant I was merely jogging. When I saw Brian and Jonas waiting, all the pain went away and I booked it in. I was so stoked to be done. I couldn't believe it was over and I did it! I had the most incredible feeling after finishing. I called my mom and told her I was done. I don't remember the conversation or the drive back to the hotel. I took an ice bath then broke into a strange panic. I ate a bite of pizza and promptly threw up. I was shaking and felt like I was going to slip into a coma. I kept telling Brian to check on me if I passed out. He told me to eat, but I couldn't. I cried (again!) and said I would never do it again, but a day later found myself saying "next time" and talking about all the things I could improve upon. I have picked my next 50. Run Rabbit Run in Steamboat Springs, September 18th. Can't wait to start training!

Official time: 12:32:20 - barely under the 13 hr cutoff!

Place: well, uh, 4th from last overall, and DFL woman. Ha! Not counting all the DNFs (there were 26 of them)

Gotta acknowledge that bright side.

I have had a stressful week leading up to my first ultra. I quit my job, got a new one and caught a nasty stomach bug. I have also been compulsively checking the race day forecast and it changes frequently. First it said sunny, high of 56, that was cool. Then I just I had to check again a day later and thunderstorms were forecasted for the whole day. Then I checked again and it said high of 70, partly cloudy. Yikes. I don't know about 70. That's pretty freaking hot for me. Now it says high of 70, 20% chance of rain. And I don't care anymore. I'm not going to check again. The weather is going to do what it wants and there is nothing I can do about it. It's totally out of my hands. I've decided to bring every article of running gear I own and decide what to wear when I get there. So the weather is taken care of. Not an issue.

The stomach bug is (I think) gone from here. I spent the wee hours of Sunday morning with my ass on the toilet and my head in a mop bucket. It was intense! Both ends, I tell ya! My husband and son both caught and rid themselves of the virus before I did, so I had a little time to prep myself. I knew it was coming so I just snuggled up close to my boys, inhaled the little bitch and said, "Bring it!" so I could get it fast and then get over it. I got it the worst of all three of us. Today (Wednesday), I am venturing to say my body is back to normal. I slammed Pedialyte yesterday to re-hydrate and I think it worked. Today's goal is to EAT and eat well. Oh, how I've missed solid food!

Now that I am able to leave the house, I have some errands to run. Then I need to gather all my gear and race food and pack it. I also need to clean the house so I have something pretty and sanitary to come home to. All that's left to do after that is relax and get happy! We leave for Fruita on Friday morning. I truly am excited to run my first ultra. There is something about doing a new distance that is simply exhilarating. Popping the distance cherry. I'm sure it will hurt in a good way.

PS: I lied about not checking the weather again. I just checked a different site and it said high 62, partly cloudy. Not bad! But I still don't care. :)

Saturday Apr 17

Partly Cloudy Hi:62°Lo:40°

Partly Cloudy. High 62F and low 40F. Winds SE at 17 mph. Air Quality:NA, UV Index:7

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missing the point

There was this woman I used to run with in college. I think of her as "old" but she was probably only in her mid 30s and that was old to me then. She told me I had an "old soul" and that made me feel really cool and mature at the time. Now I believe it means I'm just jaded before my time. Years later, while celebrating a friend's birthday at a bar, I pointed out that I was the youngest in the group. Then my friend told me that I got "bonus years" for having a kid. Having a child has aged me a bit I guess. It has put this weird pressure on me to figure everything out. It's like I have to hurry up and find the meaning of life before my son grows up and becomes aware that I am just another person who knows nothing. He'll someday find that just because I have always told him what to do, doesn't mean I hold any kind of authority in the real world. That any idiot can have a child. It's easy. And you don't have to be smart, nice, or even CPR certified.

There is so much I don't understand. I just don't know how to teach the world to someone who knows nothing. I have come up with a game plan, and that is to expose my child to as much of the world as my heart will allow and hope he develops his own healthy view of it. Maybe he will come up with the answers that have always eluded me. The things I do know make very little sense to me and I'm better off not knowing them.

You can convince yourself that you want what you have or that you need something more. You can see love as a choice, an emotion or a declaration born of necessity. You can work hard and receive nothing or everything, but there's never a guarantee. Sometimes you get what you deserve and sometimes you have to take what you think you're entitled to. You can try so hard to forget things, that eventually you truly can't remember. You can try a little peace and quiet and if that doesn't work, fill yourself up with people and noise. You can play these games because it makes life pass more quickly, or slowly, whichever you prefer. You can keep dashing between opposing extremes until you are too exhausted to care and then you can stop thinking about life and just breathe.

On cold mornings you can see your breath. Believe in it because it is proof that you are living. And life doesn't have to mean anything. You should just allow it to happen because it will happen despite the conflicting meanings you have tried to attach to it. If you try too hard to find the meaning of life, you'll miss the point. It will happen before you figure out what it meant.

WTF was I thinking?

My first ultra-marathon is two weeks away and I have officially entered the freak-out zone. Fuck, Shit, Crap, Damn, Sonofabitch, Motherfff... WHAT THE FUCK WAS I THINKING?! Can we please just get this over with? Like, now. Just put a bag over my head, place me at the starting line and let me proceed with humiliating myself. Ugh, at least I have mastered the "respect the distance" aspect of ultra-running. Yup, got that part down.

My friend who is a new (but good) runner asked me how I trained for 50 miles and wanted to know how long my longest run was. I sort of winced when I said, "30 miles." She wondered how those extra 20 just "sneak in there." Uh, yeah good point. How do they do that? When I signed up for this thing , I didn't really think it would be me that ran the ultra. It would be some super fit, trained beast that I meant to transform myself into prior to the race. Turns out, I'm still me. Stupid, fat, slow-ass ME.

There just isn't enough time to do anything about that. The race is paid for, room is booked, time off work accepted, and the show must go on. Where did my excitement go? Race day wouldn't come fast enough a couple months ago. I have since come down with a case of the "I Don't Wannas." That's Fear. It ruins everything. When you give it an inch, it takes a mile. It gets its foot in the door, then storms your brain and destroys every positive thought that tries to stand up for itself. It leaves Doubt in its wake who scrambles around, searching the debris for a "Yes" but eventually succumbs to the "NOs." I started a list of excuses. So far I don't have a legitimate reason to back out except "why" which is what everyone said in the first place and at the time, I rolled my eyes because "why" is too easily answered with "why not" But answering questions with other questions only buys time.

Eventually you run out of time and you find yourself with your head in a bag at the starting line. If you take the bag off your head, you will increase your chances of completing the god-forsaken course. You will probably see the people around you smiling. You will realize they are smiling because they get to run today. And you will probably smile about that too.

Type-A Freakness

I've never been a control freak. In fact, I've always felt that I don't fit in with most runner/athlete types because I do not have a Type-A, obsessive personality. I leave drawers half open, I never tighten lids all the way, and I never quite finish my paintings. I'm a half-asser. Never having the desire to control things has made me a fairly laid back person. Lately though, something has changed. I think it has something to do with having a 2 year old (and a puppy). I often feel like no one is listening to me. I ask nicely, then I ask nicely again, then I ask sternly, then I yell. I hate yelling, but it seems yelling is the only way I know how to talk anymore. It makes me freakin hate myself! I never wanted to be a person that tells other people what to do.

I'm starting to think that maybe I do have some control issues. I never had a problem not being in control, but now I feel totally out of control and that's bothering me. I know when it started, too. It was the little pink line on the EPT that still haunts me three and a half years after it materialized out of my HCg-laden pee. Damn, I really felt out of control sitting on that toilet watching my freedom just die. I don't think I even knew a baby would come of it. Much less a toddler. All I could think about at the time was the uncontrollable growth of my belly and its surrounding body parts. I decided to just let it all happen. My boyfriend and I decided we wouldn't be like other people with kids. We would still ski and snowboard and I would still do triathlons. We would travel too. We agreed that babies are portable and we would just take him wherever we went and we'd keep on living. We'd barely even know he was there.


I let that little fetus overtake me. The problem is, I'm still letting him overtake me. Only now, he's out here in the world with us. He doesn't think it's appropriate for me to all of a sudden demand some respect. So we battle. All day long, we fight for the power. We each try to gain control. And I become one of those.


I think moms run for different reasons than other people. I used to "train" (not in a Type-A freak way) because I wanted better times. Now I run because it's the only thing that keeps me from going insane. I feel that I have to sign up for certain events to justify all the running, but honestly I could live without racing. During the week, I run in the middle of the day when my husband comes home from work. By that time, I need out. But on Sundays, I get up early to run. It's so ironic that all week I can't wait to get out of this house and away from this family, but on Sunday, it takes everything I have to pull myself away from them. I love my family in the shape of a warm, sleepy mass in my bed. Departing a warm, sleepy bed to embark on a cold, morning run is a characteristic of one of those Type-A, obsessive, control-freak runners, so maybe I do have a little of that inside of me.

My 30 mile run

Yesterday I ran 30 miles, my longest run ever, as a training run for my upcoming 50 miler. It went really well, and didn't hurt any more than 24-26 miles does. I ran the main commuting path that runs North-South through Colorado Springs, parallel to I-25. I started downtown at Colorado College and ran North, 15 miles to the North Gate of the Air Force Academy. The trail is a false flat (slightly uphill) going North, then gets hilly through the Air Force Academy. It was nice to go downhill on the way back.

It was about 35 degrees and overcast, then got really cold and started snowing at about mile 20. At mile 24 I met my friend Megan at a bike shop on the trail and she rode the last 6 miles beside me. Poor girl was freezing her butt off! She had planned to go on a real ride afterward, but when we finished it was bitter freaking cold and the snow was WET and coming down hard so I gave her a ride back to her car. It was really great to have some company for the last 6 miles. I was able to maintain, and even slightly pick up my pace, rather than finish up with a shuffle like I normally do.

So, here are some technical aspects of the run:


Nutrition: I ran out of my beloved Honey Stingers (chews) and couldn't find any the night before the run so I brought Luna Bars. That didn't work so well. I usually take a Honey Stinger chew every 10 minutes, so in place of that I took a small bite of Luna Bar. The problem is that there aren't enough calories in one small bite, and I wasn't able to eat a big chunk of Luna Bar every 10 minutes because a) it made me want to gag and b) it would have taken too long to eat and c) I would have run out quickly. I highly recommend gels or chews for lots of fast absorbing carbs and calories packed into tiny bites.
I also brought along some potato chips and beef jerky. Salt and protein. I tried Honey Stinger Bars and Power Bar protein bars for other long runs but neither sat well with me. The chips were fantastic. Really easy to eat while running, and being so salty, they made me drink my water right away. It is hard for me to remember to drink water when it is cold and wet outside because I don't get thirsty. The beef jerky sat well in my stomach, but as you can guess is a little hard to chew. I saved that for times that I was slowing down anyway or walking up a hill. It wasn't ridiculously hard to eat on the move, just not as easy as gel or chips. I think having a good protein source is important during and after long runs and this one worked perfect for me.


Gear: The forecast called for rain, snow and a high of 39 degrees. I started out with thin tights, a long sleeved tech shirt and a fleece over it. Also gloves and a wool hat. I had my Nathan Hydration Pack which I love. It doesn't chafe or bounce awkwardly. On my feet, Injinjis with Blister Shield powder. I ended up with a few blisters, but nothing big. I didn't even feel them while I was running. I got hot going through the hilly section and took off the gloves and hat. Then got more hot later and took off the fleece. Then I got cold again durning the last 6 miles, but didn't want to stop for the fleece, so I just put the hat back on and I was fine.


Pace: For my last couple of long runs, I have done a 9:1 run/walk interval. It really helps me feel like I can go all day, but also slows my pace significantly. So for this run, I did the first two 10 minute sets with the 1 minute walks and then decided to drop them. I wasn't sure if I'd regret that later or not. It ended up being just fine. I walked some of the steep hills, and I walked when I needed to fish something out of my pack or take off layers/accessories. Other than that I just ran and felt great. I am torn on the run/walk thing. Having done it on a few 20+ mile runs, I know that it makes the run hurt less in the end. I finish feeling like I could go on, which is what I need to feel because I am going to be running significantly more in the race than I do in training. But on the flip side, it is often hard for me to get going again after a walk break. On my 25 mile run a couple weeks ago, some of those 1 minute walk breaks turned into 2 minute walk breaks because I just couldn't get going again. And sometimes the hills mess with the walk breaks. I would rather walk up the hills, so if the walk break comes once I reach the top and start going down, I get pissed. I think for the ultra, I will walk the major hills and run the rest. There are enough hills there to get plenty of walk breaks! I know that toward the end (or possibly even the middle) I will need to walk more, so maybe I can implement 9:1 or 8:2 then.


Splits: Total time was 4:45:21.
First 10 miles was 1:35 (9:34 pace)
(Halfway, 15 miles 2:24)
Second 10 miles was roughly 1:35 again
Third set of 10 was 1:33:49 (9:25 pace)


So that was my run. The first couple of hours after the run I wanted to saw my legs off! I moved around a bunch to clean the house and make dinner and that helped. I slept in my recovery socks and my legs did not wake me up screaming. They feel ok today, just sore hamstrings. I am getting them worked on today after work so I should be fine. I feel great knowing I've run farther than ever before! I am getting excited for the ultra!

Running should be free, man.

I don't race very much. Sometimes I feel like less of a runner because of this. I hate missing out on local races. I feel guilty about it, like I really should be running all of them. If I'm not racing in my own town's Turkey Trot, can I even call myself a runner? People who don't even run come out at least for the Turkey Trot. If I don't run the Turkey Trot, am I less than a non-runner? It seems silly, but I think most of us, to some degree, feel compelled to race just to maintain our identities as runners.

When you meet people and they find out you're into running, they always ask how many races or "marathons" you've done. I hate that question. If they're less than impressed with your number (which then becomes your status), they'll tell you about their friend, or co-worker, or co-worker's friend who does a marathon every month. The subliminal message is: "THERE! Betcha don't feel like such a runner anymore, huh?" Running several marathons per year, or completing the "50 states" challenge only proves one thing as far as I'm concerned. You have money.

If you want to get really personal, or even if you don't, I'll tell you that my husband and I make ~25K per year (together). We happen to be really good at budgeting and managed to pay off 10K of credit card debt in 2 years, and buy a house on our meager rations. We worked really hard to do that. We said "no" in a lot of places we wanted to say "yes". For me, that meant saying "no" to races. It hurt a lot at first. For a short time, between graduating college and becoming a mom, I had the financial freedom to do whichever races I wanted. I could afford coaching, entry fees, travel expenses, and even *gulp* triathlons! If it was the "season" I was busy racing every weekend, collecting those shiny medals and hoarding wrinkled bib numbers. Who did I think I was? Were all those meaningless trinkets defining me as a runner? Yup. Well, I was allowing them to, anyway. Each race was another notch in my belt. I was compiling evidence that I was in fact, not a loser (even though you can certainly be the technical loser of a race and still get the medal). I needed these things to uphold my "Runner" status. Somehow I missed how simple it really was. To be a runner, all I needed to do was run.

Sometimes I have to catch myself because I start basing my runner-esteem on the races I've done. When I count them up, there aren't too many and I get a little depressed. "I should race more," I say. "I need to catch up. [So and so]'s been running 1/5 as long as I have and he's already done 6 marathons. I've only done 3." I have to consciously draw myself out of these self-depricating chats. I have been running half my life. I'm 26. I'm a runner, and I don't need 2 million finisher's medals to prove it.

In my opinion, road races have gotten out of control. They are too big and too expensive. Do you really need a medal, another tech shirt and a bag full of useless sample products to motivate yourself to compete in a race? Are you even competing? Or are you just buying yourself another medal? I don't want to knock anyone for being out there and getting exercise but when I see people in races, walking and happily chatting on their cell phones or treating the road race as a parade (writing their names on their shirts, waving like political candidates at spectators) I have to wonder if they're missing the point. Or if racing has deviated from its original intent. I mean, it's supposed to be painful, right?

In In the last few years, I have gone down to running one or two main events per year. I live in Colorado Springs, where there is some kind of local race almost every weekend, all year round. I'd go broke if I did all of them. The Pikes Peak Road Runners is a group that puts on many of the races here. For the most part, they are void of nonsense medals and schwag bags. They charge just enough to put on the race and keep the runners hydrated. I like that. We want to run for the competition and the camaraderie, not the goodies. We don't need another shirt, we don't need to be pampered at every aid station, and we don't need to be marketed to at giant, crowded expos. We just need to race. Whether it's other runners, the clock, or just ourselves, racing is what we come to do.

I know that there are as many reasons to run as there are runners. There are as many reasons to race as there are racers. I'm fine with just being a runner. I would do it if races didn't exist. I would do it if Garmin didn't exist. I would run for the same conflicting reasons I have always run: the pure joy and total agony of it. Take away all the glitter and tell me why you really love to race.

I don’t want anyone to do anything except come run, party, dance, eat, and hang with us. Running isn’t about making people buy stuff. Running should be free, man. -Micah True (from Born to Run)