Ten miles of pain in 58:34 (fortunately not in the rain). Drove up the canyon with my Dad to the magic 10-mile mark, then warmed up a half mile.
For the first two miles I was antsy - full of little aches and doubts.Over the next 3 I felt pretty good, but was dreading the second half and potential crash. Around 3,5 we slipped on some mud. Luckily, no one fell. The near miss shook me up.
At 5 miles, we were a low 29. Any readers will need to look at my Dad's blog for splits. I started thinking, "Each mile under 6:00 moves me away from disaster. Juts one more mile." Somehow I held on for 4 more miles, averaging 5:50-5:53.
With a mile to go, I was safely ahead of the 6:00 guy. I took the lead, trying to not crash. For me, it's physiologically easier to lead than draft over the last mile. I feel more in control. Maybe it is my competitive nature surfacing. For all the benefits of drafting, no one ever wins a race by drafting throughout the kick.
The hills over the last 1000 got me. The bear, no, mammoth, jumped on me with 800 to go. I may also have had physiological issues. I managed to kick over the last 200. Last mile in 6:03. Only mile over 6.
This workout wiped me out, which was my Dad's intent. Practically everything hurt. So I guess I can consider it a success.