Cactus Rose is the first 100-miler I’ve crewed at. I’m at the Equestrian Aid Station with Eliot and Asa. Miles 35 and 45 right now. This race is mostly self-supported and it’s strange to just sit here waiting for friends to come through. It’s a wonderfully small race and runners trickle through one or two at a time. You’d really have to elbow someone out of the way to help a runner you didn’t know right now.
Asa’s spent a good portion of the morning introducing himself to strangers and offering them pancakes.
“No thank you, I’ve already had breakfast.”
Hard sell: “They’re bluuuueberry.”
He’s kept Eliot pretty busy flipping at the Coleman stove. We’ve made some tentative plans about his future in sales and marketing. Eliot’s also had to teach him it’s not polite to ask a woman her age. Everyone keeps asking the little guy how old he is after his pancake pitch, and it only seems polite to respond in kind. Picture Asa with some runner’s mother. “I’m three. How old are you?”
I had some tense moments early on trouble-shooting Camelback issues for Chris. He came through at mile 5 and said he couldn’t get much water out of it — and Help! I had a good amount of time before he returned at mile 15 and I spent most of it emptying and re-emptying the bladder trying to get water to flow easily out of the hose. I blew air in. I cursed vacuums and physics. (I figured these two were the culprits somehow.) And finally, I took the valve off and pulled out a piece of plastic clogging the tube — just as Chris ran back in. (Thanks for the Leatherman L!) I had visions of being fired if I handed Chris his Camelback and told him he’d just have to suck really hard if he wanted water.
More tomorrow when I don’t have to type on my phone’s tiny keyboard and Asa isn’t covered in syrup and dry grass.