Early Sunday morning, I met the group at the Waimanalo Trail head where we broke up into groups and headed out. I went with the medium group after successfully fending off an attempt to put me with the fast group. Thank heavens for that, because the medium group kicked me around as it was.
I blame the Camelbak I was wearing. I've used it for Mountain Biking without a problem, but apparently it doesn't translate into running so well. I don't know why, but I couldn't seem to catch my breath. It could be the fact that going out on that trail means a constant uphill and I suck on uphills, or it could be lingering tiredness from yesterday evening's beach run, but I blame the evil CamelBak. I could use some suggestions as to what my excuse will be next week now that I'm kicking the CamelBak to the curb.
You know how I said I did the beach run to prepare for the Swamp Romp? What a waste. Today's run would have been sufficient. The entire trail was a huge slime pit. I don't think we got very far in the two hours we were out, but by the time I got back to the car, my legs were encased in mud clear up to my knees. Why is it that being covered in mud fills me with a sense of pride? It's twisted, I know.
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