The hay is in the barn; an appropriate cliche for a race in rural farm country. After Saturday I will tune up my neglected Trek, re-focus on cycling, and run only when I feel like it. No Turkey and Taturs this year.
31 miles, with hills. The longest run in preparation for Pumpkin Holler was...wait for it...15.5 miles: Flatrock. At peak I ran 22 miles back to back. But I'm not going to worry about the length. If it gets bad I can slog through it like a turtle. Six hours in the middle of nowhere is a blessing, may I never forget it.
Trail Zombie has been posting fantastic pics on his blog. The Illinois river is running, the leaves are turning and the weather forecast looks great. There is only one question I need to be asking myself now: when I hit a wall, and it is sure to happen, what decisions will I make, in terms of hydration and fuel intake, to climb over it?