"This is ALL Rachael's fault." That's all I could think around mile 9 of Buffalo Springs. I was on my second loop of the brutally hot run, going back and forth between jogging and walking, desperately looking for the next aid station that was never close enough, constantly looking down at my watch and thinking "how on God's desolate Earth have I only gone a QUARTER OF A MILE SINCE LAST TIME I CHECKED MY WATCH!?" .....and a stranger just poured a cup of ice down my bra that I, without words, just pointed and motioned to my shirt. It's not every day a teenager gets to dump ice down a woman's tri top. What can I say except thank you, and you're welcome. "DAMNIT RACHAEL. This was a terrible idea." Mile 10. I put one foot in front of the other down the hill, my entire kit soaking wet with sweat and ice and gatorade and water and, yes, pee. So much pee. I knew in a few minutes I would see some of my Trail Dog Tri teammate...
I like geography best because mountains & rivers know the secret: Pay no attention to boundaries.