Washie II

Friday, 5pm, the first of much rubber burning happened.  Home, pack in preparation for the unknown, grab as much food as I could find without embarrasssing myself, notepad to take note of worthy events, warm top because it was night time and some keen'ness - because you need that if you're going to second a Washie runner for 27hrs.

We found dad 20kms into the race.  We almost killed about 10 runners in the process.  More on that another time.  40 runners, at least 60 cars full of seconds, trucks, headlamps and more hazard lights than a set of road works in a nightclub.  Dad didn't look so good, but then it was dark and his team of ninja's (sidebar: reflective clothing is a good idea) were more intereted in sister Julz' samis at this point.

AT 30km's dad realised something that 6 billion people, less 40 runners, had already realised.  Doing 130kms in a car is easier than running it.  Not to say he just stopped running - mother nature, his constitution and a litre of lactic acid teamed up to triple team him.  All us ninja's were very supportive of his decision... maybe a little too supportive.  Love you dad.

Ive lost all respect for the Washie.  Its ridiculous - theres nothing special about it, its just far.  Far doesn't equate to special... theres no TV cameras, crowds or public awareness.  Theres just trucks, dark and ninjas running along the R72 clutching bottles of coke and water.