More Goblin...

Paul wasn't racing because he has Javelina Jundred next weekend. He got up early and went for a run in the dark. Later, he manned aid station #1 all by himself.
The weather was almost identical to last year. Last year there was an 8 foot deep flash flood in the canyon the night before the race. This year, there was the same amount of rain, but it fell two days before and it was spread out over 24 hours instead of a couple. The Race started about 8 mintues late. I intended to stick to a 9:40/mile pace, but my GPS watch started pacing before 8am. That threw off the "average pace" function. I just ran as fast as felt comfortable and held it steady.
After two miles, I could feel the lactic in my thighs already. I knew this was gonna hurt.
After the first mile, no one passed me until about mile 14, but I passed another guy, so I held my place.
I was getting confused because last year the leaders passed me on the return when I was around 11 miles out. At mile 14, I still hadn't seen the leaders. But soon after, they came.
Eric Binder, who won last year, seemed pleased to see me doing so well. (He shaved 3 minutes off last years winning time, but still came in 2nd place, seconds behind the leader.)

At mile 17, I got my hopes up. I passed six people in the next 3 miles. It was a bonk-fest! All I had to do was keep eating and drinking (and not throw up!) and not slow down.
I neglected to take photos down in the canyon. They wouldn't have been scenic, but just one photo would've shown the conditions well. There was lots of water, wet sand, wet gravel, some mud, but none of it stuck. It had to slow us down some, but it didn't have too much impact.
The aid stations were great. Water and Hammer Heed, pretzels, potato chips, Clif bars, candy, bananas, oranges, electrolyte tabs, Clif gummies, and more.

Last year, it was between miles 22 and 24 that my right ankle swelled and turned purple. Not this year.
However, I've always been able to tell when mile 17 comes along because that's when I feel my best; endorphin overdose. Not this time. By mile 20 I was nagging my body, 'okay, where's the dope? where's those endophins?', but it wasn't listening.
Was I bonking? My legs hurt. 'Yeah, but they're still working.' My watch said I was holding my pace. But my form was beginning to suffer - my hips weren't moving like they should.
One of the first things to go when your form fails, is you lose that little push at the end of each stride. So I started concentrating on that little push. If I could just keep that, then everything else would stay in check.

Then my hopes rose again - at mile 26, I saw the guy who passed me at mile 14 up ahead. I was gaining on him. At the last aid station, he saw me. From then on, he was determined not to let me close the gap.
But I did close the gap. It wasn't enough, though. He held me off.

When I crossed the finish, they told me I was 12th - which floored me. Couldn't be true! It wasn't. There was one tag mix-up, plus they meant 12th male. Overall, I was 13th male - 16th overall, out of less than 90 racers.
Still, the best race performance of my life.