As the weeks went by and the race got closer and closer, I started to wonder what, exactly, I'd signed myself up for. The more stories I heard, the more I realized I had no clue what I'd gotten myself into. It would be a long day. It would be hard. I would be sore as all get out the next day. Heck, I'd probably be lucky if I was able to run the Run Hit Wonder just 3 short days after this ordeal. I was beginning to wonder if I'd made the right decision. However, just as the doubt started to really creep in, the event started to get closer. Plans were being made for carpools and supplies, and I started to get really excited about the whole thing. The distinct possibilities of injury and pain were forgotten, and I started to get really pumped up about running through the woods of Hell (MI) for a day.

The trip to Hell on Friday was a long one. Because we had to wait for one of our carpool members to drive down to Chicago from Wisconsin, we didn't leave until 3:30 Friday afternoon. It took us nearly an hour and a half to get out of the city, and another hour to get out of the state (thank you, rush hour traffic and construction). Once we hit I-94 in Michigan, though, it was (more or less) smooth sailing. We stopped for dinner at a Big Boy, where I inadvertently ordered a sandwich the size of my head. Then there was some more driving and we finally arrived at the hotel. We met up with our fellow teammates, and the other teams from the boards that were there. There was some socializing, some planning to meet the next morning to drive to the course, and a half-assed attempt to get to bed early. Of course, in my own personal grand tradition, I had a hard time sleeping Friday night, and only got a few hours of sleep, the quality of which is doubtful. (However, I think it may have had more to do with the two huge glasses of iced tea I sucked down at dinner than anything else.)

The 6 a.m. wake up call came very early Saturday morning. I got out of bed, threw on some running clothes, and threw a few more changes of clothes in a bag with my extra shoes. We met up with everyone in the lobby, got everything into the truck, and headed over to Half Moon Lake for the start of the race. The sun wasn't quite up yet, and it was chilly. I did not envy those who had to run the first leg - not only was it cold and early, but they'd changed the course so that the first leg was now a wet leg. I had a granola bar and some water, and hung around waiting for the race to start. A lot of the teams had dressed up and/or decorated their vehicles, so I walked around, took it all in, and snapped a few pictures. We took a few "before" team pictures, and then it was time for the runners to line up.

Once they were off, there wasn't much to do except relax for a bit. The second leg started from the same place as the first one, so we just had to hang out, wait for our runner to return, and then send the next one off. We saw the first people come blazing through the exchange about half an hour after they'd left. The first leg was only 4 miles, which should give you an idea of how rough the terrain was - in a 4-mile road race, the winners would probably start to come in around 20-22 minutes. Definitely not 30.

My first leg was the third leg. By this time, the sun was up and it was starting to warm up. We got to the exchange point, I ran to use the facilities (I was glad I waited - the toilets at the race start were very stinky port-o-lets, the ones at the start of leg 3 were actual flushing toilets), and then stepped in the crowd to watch for Shari, our incoming runner. Of course, with my trip to the bathroom, I'd gotten separated from my other teammates, so I was looking for them, too. I finally found them, and was talking to people when someone said, "Here comes Shari!" I hopped into the exchange area, tagged her, and took off running.

I had to run across a field into the woods, and when I was about halfway to the trees, I realized I was running waaay too fast, and there was no way I was going to make it through 3.6 hilly miles at that pace. I slowed down when I hit the woods, and concentrated on taking it easy, breathing, and pacing myself. The hills started right away, but they weren't anything too horrible. The thing was, though, the hills kept coming. Every time I went down a nice big downhill, I couldn't get excited about it because I new I'd have to run back up it at some point.

The nice thing about that leg is it was a loop, ending in the same spot where we started. The trail crossed a road in the beginning, so I knew when I hit the other road crossing, I'd be more than halfway done. When I finally got there, there was a guy watching for traffic on the road. I'm pretty sure he was the same guy that directed runner traffic at the Run Thru Hell back in August, since he had a cast on his arm. And, really, how many guys in that small town working running events could there be with a cast on their arm? I'm guessing not too many.

My excitement at being more than halfway done with the leg was short-lived, however. I came around a curve and was faced with the biggest hill I've ever seen while out for a run. I stopped at the bottom and said, "You've got to be kidding me." It was not the last time I would say this to myself over the course of the day. I thought about it for a second, and made the decision to walk up the hill. Could I have run up it? Possibly. However, once I finished that leg I had another 8 miles to run that day. And this leg was described as "the easy leg." Since I had more of this coming up, I figured there was no point in killing my legs on this one hill that early in the day. I made it up, and ran the rest of the leg (suddenly, the hills on the way back seemed far less hilly that they had on the way out), and finished strong. I tagged off with Kevin who had a bottle of water waiting for me (Dave, our next runner, had gone to use the restroom and started his leg from there just a few minutes earlier), and we went back to the truck to head to the next exchange point.

I'd been wearing my (cotton) team t-shirt while running, so the first thing I did was strip it off and put a clean dri-fit shirt on. It would have been nice to run in the team shirt all day, but with as much as I sweat while I run, it just wasn't going to happen. Why? Have you ever spent 40+ minutes in the sun in a soaking wet cotton shirt? Exactly. Gross. This is why we have dri-fit shirts. I also made myself a peanut butter sandwich, which I wolfed down in about 2 minutes.

As we were hanging out at the start point for legs 7 and 9, I went to use the restroom again. My bathroom luck held out, as the restroom building at Hell Creek Ranch had just been redone. Not only did it have actual flushing toilets, but it was clean and pretty and not-at-all smelly. (Given the horrific state of the port-a-potties at the start, I was most excited about the non-smelliness. And also the flushing.) We hung out with one of the other Tapir teams while we waited for our runner, and once we sent Shari into the woods for her "mucky" leg, it was time to motor to Pickney Elementary School where my next leg would start from.

We got to the school and waited. And waited. And waited. Shari's a pretty speedy runner, so even though she was running through some pretty swampy mud and muck, we didn't expect her to take nearly an hour to finish the 5 miles. She finally came in, and I was so ready to run I tagged her and just took off without really looking at her. I just figured she was as muddy as everyone else was. Turns out she came back perfectly clean - she'd gotten lost and run around the swamps, which is why she took so long. By the time she realized she was off the course, she'd run too far to turn back and pick up the course where she left it, so she just went for it and eventually got back to the course.

Of course, I also missed the other exciting part of the afternoon while I was out running. My team went back to the truck, and it wasn't where they left it. It was under the swingset a few yards away. Turns out one of the other teams had cracked our secret "leave the keys in the gas tank" trick and committed some Grand Theft Auto. The best part? Once my teammates found the truck parked under the swingset, they took a picture of it. One of the guilty party was hiding out nearby, and took a picture of them taking a picture of the truck.

Genius.

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Meanwhile, I was out running. The leg was called "Hills of Horsey Hell" and described as, "Rail to Trail to wicked hill section on former ski-hills then horse trails." The "Rail to Trail" section was, indeed, out in the open. I started out running along the road, then on a gravel trail, then through some open prairie. I was wondering when the "wicked ski-hill section" would start when I came around the corner and saw the first hill. It didn't look too big or too steep, so I started running up it. I came to what I thought was the top... and realized it was simply a flat spot where the trail curved. Before going uphill some more. Lather, rinse, repeat a couple of times. Needless to say, I wound up walking up that bad boy. However, as rough as getting up that hill was, it was nothing compared to the corresponding downhill. The downhill was steep, sandy, straight down and huge. They weren't kidding when they said these were old ski hills.

I started walking down the hill, but between the steep grade and loose sand, it just wasn't working. The sand kept shifting under my feet and I'd find myself sliding down 2 or 3 feet. Not wanting to end up on my ass (although there were multiple times when I found myself wishing it had been rainy during the week, so I could have just sat down and slid down the muddy hill), I started working my way down the hill facing sideways and doing some "controlled" sliding (well, as controlled as sliding down a sandy hill can be). Towards the very bottom, I could see that I had a straight line to the end of the hill, and no branches or roots in my way, so I decided to just go for it and run down. Wow. The hill was a lot steeper (and I had a lot more to go) than I thought, and I wound up running so fast I wasn't sure if my legs could go any faster. I felt completely out of control and it scared the crap out of me.

However, I'd be lying if, looking back, I said it wasn't perhaps a little fun.

If I thought that hill was bad, though, it was nothing compared to the next one. This was yet another time where I rounded a corner, saw where the trail went, and said, "you've got to be kidding me." To say the hill went straight up would be an understatement. I wound up climbing up the thing, partially because it was so steep I had to stick my hands out in front of me. Of course, when I stuck my hands out in front of me, they hit the hill, because it was just. that. steep.

After what felt like about 6 years of climbing, I finally made it to the top of the hill. My legs? Were dead. Completely. I had no idea how far I was from the end of the leg, and I had no idea how I was going to walk that far, never mind run. However, I didn't spend too much time pondering it. I walked a little bit to catch my breath from the climb, and as soon as I wasn't breathing heavy anymore, I started jogging. For the rest of the leg (which was, thankfully, much easier. There were a few smaller hills, but I soon got into a groove of walking up the hills and running on the downhill and flat sections. The most bizarre thing about the trail was all of the loose sand on it - it was like running on the beach. Which basically meant a lot of extra work running up and down the hills, and a lot of sand in my shoes when I was done.

Which, oddly enough, happened a lot sooner than I expected it to. I was running without my watch or GPS, so I had no idea how far or how long I'd been out on the course. However, I knew I hadn't been out that long, so when I rounded a bend and heard people cheering and saw the Hell Creek Ranch buildings, I was shocked. I figured I must have to run along the woods for a while in the field before getting to the end of the leg, but once I was out of the woods, I could see the exchange area just down the hill. I couldn't believe it! I was done already! I went all out for the last little bit, and once the two teams waiting for their runners saw me coming in, they started cheering. It was awesome. I tagged our next guy, and he took off - I was actually surprised he was still at the exchange point, since he'd been taking off a few minutes early for his legs so we wouldn't be the last team on the course. It was then that I found out I'd finished the leg in just 43 minutes - a full 10-15 minutes before I expected to. Since I can run 4.5 miles on flat ground in 43 minutes on a good day, I'm guessing the course had to be mismarked - there was no way it was that long.

Or maybe it was the full 4.5 miles, and I was just a rock star. Who knows.

Back to the truck, another peanut butter sandwich, and on to the next leg. Our runner almost got lost, but was helped out by one of the volunteers that was out remarking the course. (The course was marked by ribbons tied to trees, etc., and during the course of the day some of the ribbons came down, which meant that on some of the legs with less obvious trails, they had people out checking the routes and making sure they were marked well enough that people didn't get lost.) However, he did have to spend about 1/4 mile walking down a creek. Nicole got a great picture of him coming out of the water at the end of the leg:

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The legs got shorter towards the end of the course - most of them were 3-3.5 miles, instead of the 4-5 miles they were earlier in the day - so time started to go by really fast, and I started to get really tired. At one point, I wondered how, exactly, I was going to run another 4 miles when all I wanted to do was take a nap. I was also getting hungry, after living on granola bars and peanut butter sandwiches all day. I realized I was in trouble when I started getting hungry just as Shari started her last leg, because I was running after her. We sent her out a bit early, so we were waiting down at the exchange point for Nicole to come back in before heading to the next exchange, and I didn't want to run up to the truck to get something because I was afraid I'd miss Nicole coming in. Of course, once we got to the truck, we had to haul ass to get to the next exchange, and I had to settle for popping a fun-sized Snickers, making a super speedy bathroom stop, and then getting on the course before I was really ready to.

Of course, starting that leg, I had what can only be described as a Classic Dawnie Moment. As I started running, my team and the other team there that we knew started cheering for me and yelling my name. I got about 20 yards into it, and, for some reason, thought they were trying to get my attention, so I stopped and turned around. In the middle of the course. They all saw me stop, and screamed, "GO!" I realized my dubmass moment and got moving right away, but I don't think I'll be living that one down any time soon.

The leg started off running through a field, then came to a clearing where we had to enter the woods. Of course, every 20 feet there was a branch or fallen tree or something laying across the trail. The girl behind me and I decided that they must do this on purpose - someone came through the night before and place downed trees and branches across the trail in strategic locations, just to keep us on our toes. Or something. Thankfully, we soon came out onto a road, which was free from such obstructions. After running on the road for what felt like an eternity, we finally got to go back into the woods. The one nice thing about running on the road is that it was the same road that the team vehicles were driving down to get to the next exchange point, so they'd cheer and honk as they drove by.

Shortly after we re-entered the woods, the trail came out at the lake. I'd looked at the map for this leg before hand, and saw that the trail followed the edge of the lake for a while. What hadn't occurred to me until Nicole filled me in that morning was that there wouldn't be a path, or even a beach to run on. Nope. Just foliage, and water. Nothing in between. I sort of nodded, smiled, and said, "OK, I'm walking in the lake. No big deal." However, as I nodded and smiled, I realized I wasn't actually getting it, and wouldn't until I got there.

When I got there? I saw that she was right. There was a little bit of dirt to run on at first, but only because it's been a dry summer and the lake was probably lower than usual. This is probably also why the water only came up to my knees - I don't even want to know how deep it would have been if they'd gotten any sort of actual rain out there.

I stayed on the dirt as long as I could, then, when the time came, into the lake I went. (I was going to say "plunged", but that makes it sound like I took some sort of dive into the water. I didn't. Just trampled right on in.) The water was surprisingly refreshing - it had been a hot and humid day, I'd been doing a lot of running, and the relatively cool water on my calves felt great. I gave some serious thought to just sitting down in the lake to maximize the refreshment. However, between the silty, shifty bottom and the fact that I was dog-ass tired at that point, I wasn't sure I'd ever get back up if I did. So on I went.

After a long trek through the lake (probably a good quarter-mile or so - however, without the GPS, I have no idea how far it was, really), I started seeing people disappear into the woods ahead. As I got closer, I saw a bunch of blue ribbons on the trees showing me where I was to exit the lake. Problem was... I couldn't see a break in the trees that would be the trail I was supposed to run on once I got out of the lake. Once I got right on top of the spot, I could see a trail that started about 2 feet in, once I climbed over some plant life. I figured that must be it, climbed over the small bushy things in front of me, and went for it.

I had heard before I started this leg that the lake was approximately the halfway point. Knowing I only had 2 miles left to run and then I would be done for the day meant that I could run this last stretch a bit harder, since I didn't have to save anything for later. Of course, this part of the trail was so technical (read: lots of tree roots, etc, in the path, very twisty and turn-y, low hanging branches), that it was more like, "um, this is a trail? Are you sure?" and it was incredibly difficult to get any sort of speed going without worrying that I was going to kill myself. So I just took it one step at a time - oddly enough, I was enjoying myself, and having a great time. For all of the ridiculous terrain I'd had to cover, I couldn't remember the last time I had that much fun running. Maybe it was all the endorphins on an empty stomach, but a teeny tiny part of me was sort of sad the day was almost over.

Right about then is when I made the mistake of thinking to myself, "Self, this leg has been pretty flat so far. Way to end on an easy note!" Naturally, there was a pretty sizeable hill right around the next corner I turned. Oops. The rest of the leg was all up and down, twisting and turning through the woods. At one point, we were back out on the road for a while. I kept looking for where we were to turn back in the woods, especially since I could hear people cheering on what had to have been the other side of said woods. Finally, when I got back on the trail, I ran for what felt like forever right next to the cheering. I could hear everyone, but I couldn't see them. Silly me thought that meant I was almost done, until I realized I was running away from the noise. Drat. It was right about then that the fact that I was absolutely exhausted started to catch up with me. However, I knew there couldn't be that much further to go, so I pressed on.

The next time I heard the cheering, I was almost done. Before I knew it, I was out of the woods and running through the exchange point, looking for my team. And, um, where was my team? Someone on the sidelines yelled, "You took too long, they left without you!" and I sincerely hoped that wasn't the case. I mean, they wouldn't leave entirely without me. Surely they'd leave someone there to let me know that everyone else had left? Or something?

Just as I was starting to get genuinely concerned, Nicole and Shari ran up, and Nicole was holding an ice cold can of Bud Light. For me. Turns out they'd been standing down by where I came out of the woods so they could get a picture. I opened the beer as we headed towards the truck, and after a day of running over hills and mountains and lakes and who knows what else in the hot sun, it totally hit the spot. Very rarely has a beer been so refreshing.

Picking up our next runner was a bit of an adventure - he'd left early, before we found out that the next leg was actually shorter than advertised. We hauled ass to the next exchange point where we found Dave, done running and already halfway through a beer (thoughtfully provided to him by another team we knew, who had also taken Kevin to that point early so he could start running his last leg). Then it was back to the start/finish area to wait for Kevin to finish.

As he came down the last hill, we all notice he'd gotten a little beaten up during his last leg. Turns out he'd fallen about 2 miles from the finish, and scraped his knee and jammed a finger in the process. Ow. We all ran through the finish together, got our medals, and went to join the other teams over by the beach. Nicole and Dave wheeled our cooler o' beverages over, and I secured our team pizzas. I let everyone know I had pizza, then proceeded to sit down in front of the box and wolf down half a pizza all by my lonesome. I was hungry. And the pizza helped. I was also wickedly dehydrated, to the point where I had a raging headache, but no matter how much water I drank, the headache didn't go away. Yet I was still peeing every 20 minutes. Frustrating? Yes. Luckily, Shari's had the same problem - turns out I didn't have enough salt in my system. So while I was drinking craploads of water, I wasn't actually absorbing any of it. Hence all the peeing. So I switched to Gatorade and pretzels. After a while, I stopped eating the pretzels and just sucked the salt off them. If someone had come up to me with a salt lick at that point? I would have gladly taken it.

Once all of the pizza was gone, we headed back to the hotel. I managed to hop in the shower before my roommate, so while I didn't have any water pressure, I at least had hot water. She was not so lucky, and wound up waiting a good 40 minutes to take a shower. Why was there no hot water or water pressure? Because damn near everyone in the hotel that night was running at DWD, and they were all taking showers. At once. I'm thinking that the plumbing system and the Chelsea Comfort Inn isn't quite used to that load. However, I was clean, so I didn't really care. Then it was downstairs to gather with the other Tapirs.

The "gathering" turned into quite the afterparty. One of the guys has a relative that works for a Very Large & Tasty Ice Cream Company, so he brought coolers of ice cream for us - enough that everyone had their own pint to snack from. Another runner is a pastry chef, and she'd brought an assortment of gourmet cookies. Yet another runner, who is apparently one hell of a party animal, brought a bottle of tequila and was trying to get everyone to do shots. At round one, I was still on my 2nd or 3rd beer, so I knew it was a bad idea. By round two, it was less of an idea, but still not a good idea, but I figured one shot wouldn't kill me. By round three, it had moved into the "good idea" category, which is when you know the party is about to be over. This was all before the game of "Chandelier", which is the most evil drinking game I have ever played, perhaps even worse than "Circle of Death." (However, I think this was largely due to my pointing problem - one of the guys had made a rule that whoever pointed at something had to drink. After a while, people were asking me which cup was mine. What did I do? Pointed. Drink. Lather, rinse, repeat. Baaad.)

However, I wasn't the only one with a pointing problem. RFS, who was somehow drunker than I, also had a pointing problem. He also likes to open beer bottles with his teeth, which was making all of us twitch. I threatened, every time he did it, to go find his dentist and tell them what he was up to. And I meant it, too. Then there was the fact that I had the exact. same. conversation with him three different times. Within an hour.

We wound up staying up until 4 or 5 in the morning. How I got back to my room? I do not know. But I did. My roommate woke up at 8, and shortly after that I got up to use the bathroom, and figured I might as well shower while I was up, hoping it would make me feel a bit more human. It didn't. I managed to get my stuff packed, and after waiting in the lobby for a few other people, headed out to breakfast. I tried to get excited over my bacon and eggs, but just couldn't do it. I was thrilled when we got in the car, because it meant I got to lie down and sleep. And sleep I did - all the way to Chicago.

The strangest thing about this whole thing? My legs never got sore. Sunday? They felt fine. Monday? Fine. They were tired, but I never had a day of not being able to walk right, or having to walk downstairs backwards, which I was fully expecting. Apparently I'm in better shape than I think. Or something. Go figure.

With the exception of the raging hangover I had on Sunday, I had a great weekend. Would I do it again? In a second. Except without the tequila. Definitely skip the tequila next time.