Three back-to-back training days included a 13 mile jog/walk on the 4th of July (with fireworks detours), an 11 mile run the day after with less than 1/2 mile of actual trail running, and a final day of 6 miles that included 2 miles running home-runs over-n-over on the local baseball field.  Here is where I discovered running the perimeter of the infield — it is approximately 1 tenth of a mile, so by my estimation I scored 20 home runs.

But the real confidence builder wasn’t accomplishing the miles, but surviving the heat and humidity thanks to rogue GPS watches.  It would be nice if the training gods cut us some slack.  It’s not easy to train for Utah’s high elevation desert-dry conditions from the East Coast when your homeland in metro DC is now the North American Amazon Rain Forest.

Jill and I joined forces for the first 2 days — and at 0530 the air was thick, wet, sticky, heavy and hot.   Wearing bathing suits instead of running gear may have been more appropriate.   We synced our GPS’s at the beginning of each run with the hopes that the mileage tracking would be similar, but apparently running right next to each other —  one GPS is taking the lead and the other pulling a Rosie Ruiz.

Jill’s GPS was determined to be an overachiever — which comes as no surprise.  When my GPS mileage shows 10 miles, hers 11, sensible persons would conclude – meh, whatever.  For us, this problem consumes our attention away from the heat and humidity for the remainder of the run, wondering — which one is correct?   Someone suggests “let’s go with the shorter distance” which results with staying out on the course longer to make up the last mile.  Two minutes later dripping with sweat, and Grand Trailfest be damned, the conversation finds zest with “your watch can’t be right”, and thanks to exhaustion there are no further words, because who knows which distance is truly correct and neither of us want’s to be the proud owner of an underachieving GPS watch.

Peace, Love, Out,
Jane