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Oblivious to what terror had been unleashed we moved on,
wondering if what we saw was real. It was turning into a very nice run. The sun
was rising, cutting through the darkness and lighting the path ahead. The group
was lively and moving at a decent clip. And then it happened. Due to prior
commitments, they turned back. About half the group returned to brave the
creature under the bridge…never to be seen again. (Until next week)
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The rest of the outbound journey was uneventful. More bridges
but a suspicious lack of hobo nesting. Finally, after just under 7 miles out it
was time for me to turn around and face my destiny. It would be 6.5 long miles back to that
point, to that shifting mass of uncertainty. The closer I got the more I
worried that I may not make it out alive. And then around the bend I came and I
could see it, looming. Under the bridge my eyes scanned the darkness as my legs
ached; this was the longest I have ever run.
Would I have the intestinal fortitude to do battle under the bridge?
Hell no. I am not dumb. That dude could be crazy and I was
alone. I would prefer to not turn up on a Dateline NBC show. I cut up above
ground and skirted the bridge, running across the open street. I could see the
parking lot in the far distance so I dialed it up a bit. I LOVE finishing
strong. Finally, FINALLY I got to my car. 13.93 miles under shoe I had eclipsed
the half marathon distance I had been chasing for so long now. Of course, as tired as I was, I had 2 young
kids’ birthday parties ahead of me. In
the end, I think I would have been safer fighting the…HOBO IN THE MIST.
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