I was probably playing with my favorite Han Solo and Chewbacca action figures at the time. I couldn’t have cared less about some dumb race. And I lived just over two hours from Boston.

Folks, if this doesn’t give you chills; If this doesn’t get you psyched for Boston — you need defibrillation.

- Dean

At the end of an endurance race, you don’t expect people to look their best. You expect to see haggard, salt-encrusted faces staring back at you behind plates of orange slices, salty chips, and bananas. Finishers tend to sport a curious mixture of exhaustion and elation. They’re psychologically energized, just not ready to go out on the town. Such was the case at the 2007 Black Mountain Marathon. But this time, the typical post-race gathering was broken by a scene of more lurid graphic interest.

I ran the marathon while my comrades ran the full 40 mile Mount Mitchell Challenge. I had the luxury of waiting for them to finish. One friend (We’ll call him “Rock”) came in at 6:37:32, a full hour better than his previous record. Time to celebrate a well earned PR! I expected to see a predictably worn-out runner. I got carnage.

Apparently, Rock took a fall at the summit, badly jamming two fingers and cutting open his knee. I’ve seen scraped knees before. As a dad, I simply tell my kids to get up and quit overreacting. Rock ran 20 miles down a mountain on much more than a scrape.

As if the blood streaking down his leg wasn’t enough, the knee swelled mightily at the finish. It was a complete bloody mess. You couldn’t actually see the knee. It was hidden beneath a supperating, spasmodic hematoma the size of a cantaloupe. Yuck.

In polite society, this would be cause for sober concern and immediate medical attention. But Rock was surrounded by runners hopped up on post-race endorphins. Who else would react with such delighted fascination? They congratulated Rock on his wound and virtually fell over themselves photographing it enthusiastically. This includes the official race photographer at the behest of the race director. It was a sight evocative of the British Paparazzi. The scene lacked only flying undergarments from overly zealous fans.

In less extreme circumstances, this crowd response would seem quite unsettling. At the end of a trail race of this magnitude however, it just seemed normal. Well, as normal as this sort of thing can get. No one runs 40 miles up and down a mountain just to lose a few unwanted pounds. Ultra marathoners seem to actually enjoy mental stress, physical suffering, and general anguish.

For them, the only thing better than a brutal run, is an accompanying glamour injury; nothing that prevents future running (no one wants to play the role of the doomed Lakota Sioux). Injuries should be just serious enough to engender fascination and dare I say it, jealousy.

I know runners (myself included) who think Rock had a PERFECT day. He ran a bona fide ultra marathon up a mountain, secured a gargantuan PR on a hobbled knee as gross as it was fascinating, and was sped off to the ER amidst fawning peers.

Oh Yeah, I’m jealous.

And that’s just one story from the race. Read more in my FULL RACE REPORT of the Black Mountain marathon/Mount Mitchell Challenge, one of the best races East of the Mississippi.

- Dean

Please pardon the delay in updating. Lot’s of stuff is on the way including: My take on the Myrtle Beach pancake run, a softly spoken guru smackdown, an ersatz reflective vest, Black Mountain report (Parental advisory for gore and blood), greetings from the marathoner asylum, a shower-singing soldier, and reflections on Badwater.

- Dean

Myrtle Beach is in the bag. The North Pole will have to wait. So what will I do next week? Gingerly run a few miles? Trim the hedges in the yard? How about another marathon?

The Black Mountain Marathon is this Saturday. I’ll head up with some trail buddies who run this race annually. I’m the newbie, and pre-race accomodations are arranged by seniority. I may be in the outhouse.

Note the word “mountain.” The race features 13 straight miles of steep ascent of trails and road. After this, my quads and toes will “enjoy” the manic descent. From what I hear, it’s quite a challenging race. The accompanying 40 mile Mount Mitchell Challenge summits the highest peak East of the Mississippi. I’m just an emerging crazy person, so I’ll stick with the marathon.

Who can resist a race that sports this warning:

This will be an extremely demanding course run over rugged mountain terrain under potentially life-threatening weather conditions… [this makes it] quite likely that a competitor will suffer some sort of injury during this event…ranging from abrasions, contusions, or sprains as a result of falls… to hypothermia… to animal encounters, as this is still the natural habitat of the wildcat and the black bear. (emphasis mine)

MMMMM boy!