After Saturday's overdistance run, I had a bad feeling about 15 miles on the rolling hills of Poolesville, MD, or thereabouts. A stupid reunion with Papa Johns' garlic dipping sauce the night before with dinner made my attempts to sleep well an exercise in frustration. Luckily for me, Dave Burnham picked me up on the way to the run, sparing me an earlier wakeup to ride the metro into town for a carpool.
The grave sensation followed me through the early stretch of the run, two loops based around River Road. I didn't help myself by wearing a long-sleeved shirt over another shirt, but we would be making a trip back to the cars after the first nine miles, so I could drop it off. We eventually picked up the pace, and my spirits lifted. As soon as I knew it, we reached the 12-mile mark and Pat Murphy and I headed back. Jake Marren and Karl kept going, so Dave and I drove by them a few times- Jake was going for 24, and his form remained remarkably composed for having run that much.
Oh, there was a dead goose, too.