Chris Wristen

A year in the making, The Kilimanjaro Project is finally complete.

In fact, it’s been exactly a year in the making.

At midnight on June 11, 2010, our team left the dining tent after a late-night breakfast and began our assault on the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania. It was one year ago today.

The glow of the moonlight and the beams of our headlamps lighted our path as our lead guide, Joshua Ruhimbi, set a steady but comfortable pace during the six-hour march to the crater rim.

The air grew thinner by the step, and fatigue set in by the time we took a break at 6 a.m. to watch the sun rise. From there, it was an adrenaline-fueled final hour to the summit at Uhuru Peak.

In the months since then, and during the past 48 hours in particular, that week on the trail — and those memorable hours of darkness during the push to the summit — came racing back into my consciousness. At times while piecing The Kilimanjaro Project together I felt like I was back on the trail.

This final video was the most moving to craft, however. It was the toughest to put together, from the song selection to the clips that are used and how the story should be told. In addition to having minimal material to work with during the six-hour climb through darkness, this was the moment all of us dreamed of for months — if not years.

You’ll notice in the video the sound of Joshua, our fearless leader, talking to us during the summit assault. He was constantly talking, uttering the “pole, pole” cadence to set our pace, as well as checking in with each climber to determine our health and reminding us to constantly keep hydrating. Also in the video, you’ll hear heavy breathing in the thin air as we go above 19,000 feet. You’ll also hear the joy and relief in our voices upon reaching the summit.

Prior to the start of our journey we were advised to, upon reaching the summit, turn in a circle and snap pictures in every direction. The reason for that is because most people are so fatigued by the time they reach the top that most memories of the half hour or so at the summit are fuzzy. Sure enough, by the time I was back in my tent at Horombo it felt like days since we’d been at the top; by the time I landed in the United States if seemed like months ago. This video transported me back to the summit, however, and immediately I felt back in the moment.

A year ago I didn’t anticipate putting a big video production together, but by pooling resources with my fellow climbers we had more than 1,000 photos, numerous video clips and a lifetime of memories that needed to be retold. I will forever be indebted to Jeff Patra for his friendship, as well as his excellent photo skills and his superb video lens that produced at least half of the content for this project. I also will forever be indebted to Jeff and our fellow climbers Claire, Jonathan, Zephan, Geoff and Peter for sharing the experience and making it so much fun; our lead guide Joshua for his friendship, wisdom and leadership; and the extensive support staff who helped us every step of the way on our journey.

Standing on the summit of Kilimanjaro was the experience of a lifetime, and one year later I’m glad this project is complete.

View the earlier parts of the project here.

A project nearly one year in the works is nearing completion.

I’ve plugged away, on and off, during the past year on The Kilimanjaro Project. It’s a video and photo collaboration of a June 6-12, 2010, ascent of Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania.

A few weeks ago I rolled out parts one and two, followed by part three.

Parts four and five are now complete, leaving summit night to be completed. Parts four and five can be viewed here:

After a three-week break to recover and heal from a heavy race schedule and a nagging toe injury, followed by two low-key, easy mileage weeks, it’s time to get serious about training again.

The Pikes Peak Ascent is 77 days away. Preparing for it will encompass most of the summer — and that starts now.

Where to begin? What to do? I don’t really have a clue.

The Ascent is a half-marathon to the summit of Pikes Peak in Manitou Springs, Colo. It includes 7,815 feet of vertical gain to a max elevation of 14,115 feet. It’ll take somewhere between four and five hours, or double my normal half marathon time.

How do you prepare for that in the flatlands of Kansas?

I’m still figuring that out. Ideas have poured in from friends who’ve done the Ascent in the past. Suggestions have ranged from putting a treadmill at the maximum incline possible, to swimming, to running hill repeats, to running sprints while breathing through a straw, to drinking beer before running to simulate lightheadedness at altitude. A little bit of everything ought to help.

The biggest key will be logging miles and hours on my feet, as well as surrounding myself with people who inspire and motivate me to help kick my butt in gear. That began in earnest this week. I logged 4 1/2 miles Tuesday at Shawnee Mission Park with Shelley Flones, an awesome chick and stud runner I met through my runner friends in Lawrence.

I logged another 4 1/2 miles on the SM Park loop Wednesday — National Running Day — with some of the most inspiring Trail Nerds, including Pikes Peak vet Matty Mullins, Hayley Esson, Wael Sammur, Brian Brooks, Danny Miller (who is preparing for the Western States 100) and Bad Ben Holmes. It was humid drizzly and muddy, but we set a brisk pace. Matty and I spent most of the loop discussing Pikes Peak training. In the process, we went much faster than I’d planned (a little under 41 minutes).

Fatigued from the two previous runs, Matty’s Beer Appreciation Run Thursday evening at Wyandotte County Lake Park was a real eye-opener. I forgot just how tough the hills at WyCo are. Add in temperatures in the upper 80s, lots of humidity and a pace beyond my comfort zone for 7 1/2 miles … my body was ready to collapse by the end. That was a good thing, though. There will be nothing easy about Pikes Peak. Hill training will be a necessity, humidity will challenge the lungs to simulate the lack of oxygen at altitude, and the longer miles simply come with the territory. It was a great workout — but an eye-opener just the same.

The past three days were a real kick in the pants as Pikes Peak training begins in earnest. They were a reminder of how much training will be required to have a successful race, but they also were a reminder of how fortunate I am to have so many knowledgeable, inspiring training partners.

Matty is a Pikes Peak veteran who is training for the full marathon this year. Brian is focusing a significant amount of his summer training to hill running — exactly what I need to be doing to prepare. Both are eager, ready and willing to kick my butt on training workouts, and that’s exactly what I need.

Seventy-seven days seems like a long way away, but it’s time to get serious about my training.

A few weeks ago I posted the first two parts of The Kilimanjaro Project, the photo/video mashup recapping last year’s trip to the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania.

Here is part three. It recounts our third day on the mountain when we made our way to Mawenzi, camped around 14,300 feet and did an acclimatization hike to above 15,100 feet.

This is my favorite piece of the project so far, partially because of the content and partially because it was the day on the trip when I became fully confident I would make it to the summit. Being able to go above 15,000 feet and feel fine, as well as sleep well above 14,000 feet, was reassuring.

It also was the day when I was fully confident our entire group would make it to the top — which was a goal all of us shared from day one. There were some struggles with altitude sickness, but the fact that all of us made it through the acclimatization day, matched with the determination everyone showed from the beginning, removed any doubts from my mind.

So here it is, Part Three:

Here’s a link to the first two parts.

A few weeks ago I began pondering when and where to run my first marathon.

Correction: I pondered when and where to run my first marathon about five years ago, and I settled on the Kansas City Marathon so my family could be there to see it.

That was a road marathon, however. I got injured during my 16-mile long run, and a four-year break from running followed.

So let’s try this again … A few weeks ago I began pondering when and where to run my first trail marathon. Sure, it’d be my first marathon of any sort, but I’ve pretty much sworn off pavement since returning to running. I’ve done two trail half marathons so far, and I’ll be running the Pikes Peak Ascent half marathon in August.

After that, it seems reasonable to begin building up to a marathon.

My first thought was to do the Rockin’ K Marathon at Kanopolis State Park. I went to Kanopolis for the first time in March and did a few hours of hiking. Already I could see why it has earned such a great reputation. The terrain is rugged and forces you to go much slower than normal, but that’s O.K. because the scenery makes it worthwhile to take your time.

Still, on that initial trip I simply hiked. Today I returned to Kanopolis and had my running shoes with me. My legs managed two miles … maybe … before feeling weary. Some of that can be attributed to a three-week layoff while nursing a foot injury, and some of it can be blamed on stopping to take pictures of deer, turkeys and prairie dogs, but the Rockin’ K trail deserves most of the credit. Already it’s forcing me to question this grand idea to make my first marathon the Rockin’ K.

Perhaps I’ll find another race before then, and I’ll certainly be in better shape come next April.

Another trip to Kanopolis State Park may be in order this summer to give the trails another test run to see if this is such a good idea after all.

Who wears a suit to a sporting event?

Coaches, parents who just finished work and are taking their kid to a game, and douchebags.

The third category gathers en masse at the Kentucky Derby.

For eight guys in town for a bachelor party, there was only one option: Embrace it and revel in it.

Degenerate gambler track suits or gorilla masks? If only they didn’t violate the dress code.

Seersucker suits? Check.

Fedoras? Check.

Bow ties? If you could find one.

Yes, the Kentucky Derby experience at Churchill Downs is epic, and it has almost nothing to do with the “sporting event” going on.

It’s an all-day spectacle that follows a simple pattern: two minutes of racing — of which you see maybe 10 seconds of it — and then a 45-minute break to place your bets on the next race.

That leaves plenty of down time, which likely explains why a majority of the Derby’s 160,000-plus attendees devote so much effort to finding the right suit, dress, hat or costume to wear. About 97 percent of the time you’re at the horse races, no horses are racing. Your options to pass the time are limited to: A.) Admire each other’s over-the-top attire; or B.) Indulge on mint juleps — the Derby’s signature beverage.

It’s an experience like nothing I’ve ever witnessed before. In 11 years as a professional sportswriter I’ve encountered nothing like it, and that includes NFL games, college football and the NCAA Tournament, among others.

The Kentucky Derby is as big as a NASCAR event, but with a much different dress code and demographic. So much of the event is about flaunting wealth — or pretending to have it.

If the attire isn’t enough to scream “elitist” or “wannabe elitist,” the beverage of choice serves as the cherry on top. Sure, you see a few people sipping on beers, but at Churchill Downs they serve mint juleps in a glass. Not some fancy plastic souvenir cup. Actual breakable glass.

When reflecting on the Kentucky Derby, very little that sticks out in my mind involves the races. Sure, I have a few losing betting slips to commemorate my time at Churchill Downs, but nothing about any of the races stands out other than Kevin correctly betting on the winning horse.

What sticks out is the spectacle around the event: the Southern hospitality; the beautiful women in their fancy hats; the little old men slicked up in suits; the young 30-somethings like us that dressed like total d-bags trying to fit in.

Was the Kentucky Derby a blast? Absolutely.

Would I go back? I’m not sure.

As for souvenirs, I’ll always cherish some of the photos that captured an event like nothing I’ve ever experienced, and I have a nice set of souvenir glasses from a day spent sipping on tasty mint juleps.

And then there’s that seersucker suit.

I last wore a suit to a sporting event as a high school basketball manager. It was a wool, navy blue pinstripe suit. I still have it, and I refused to bring it to the Derby. Darin found a seersucker for $60 at a thrift store, and we thought it would be close enough to my size. It fit perfectly.

Plus, it was surprisingly comfortable. If I had any need to wear a suit on a regular basis, I might actually consider wearing it.

Which brings me back to my original point. Who wears a suit to a sporting event? Coaches, definitely. The same goes for parents juggling their time between work and their children.

But douchebags? In our case, absolutely, and we were proud of it.

Still, I must admit that seersucker was darn comfortable. After two hours of light drizzle, it dried right out. When the temperature rose, it felt cool and cozy.

In hindsight, maybe I was too quick to judge.

Besides, the Derby’s not really a “sporting event” anyway (When at least 90 percent of those in attendance clearly spent more time researching their wardrobe than the horses in the race, it ceases to be a sporting event in my opinion). It’s just a fashion show with a few horse races mixed in for a change of pace.

Exhausted, mildly hung over and ears still ringing from the thumping hip-hop music at Rock Bar the night before, six dudes piled into a rented Crown Vic and rolled a mile down the road to Waffle House.

Finding no open tables, the crew headed for Shoney’s.

Jim Beam distillery

It was Friday morning in Louisville and we were in full recovery mode. Thursday night was hardly wild by our former standards, but for a group of 30-somethings it was still a jolt to the system. Cinco de Mayo, mixed with a free outdoor concert and then some after-partying on our first night in town set the tone for what would be a memorable weekend.

It was still 24 hours until our trip to Churchill Downs for the 137^th Kentucky Derby, so we had a day to fill.

With Shoney’s in our bellies, it was time to find something to do. Hmm … bourbon tours?

To the Crown Vic!

Jim Beam barrels

About 30 minutes later, and just as the scrambled eggs and side order of grits were starting to work their magic, we crested a hill on a two-lane highway in Clermont, Ky., and saw a sign instructing us to turn left. Down a hill, around a bend and back up a hill, a big red barn came into view. Painted on it was the Jim Beam logo.

This was the home of Jim Beam bourbon. We arrived just in time for the next tour. During about 45 minutes we received a brief introduction to the property and history of the bourbon, an explanation about bourbon barrels, and then we headed into the storage warehouse where row after row of wooden bourbon barrels stretched into the darkness and soared nine stories high.

The spectacle of the storage facility was impressive, but the treat came at the end with the free samples. First, we sampled a 120-proof bourbon that caused everyone to cringe. Even the slightest swig burned the nostrils. Second, we sipped an 80-proof Red Stag that went down much smoother. With a hint of black cherry, it bore a slight resemblance to a port wine.

Back in the car, we sought out our next destination. The Jim Beam tour was interesting, and we were thirsty for more.

Maker's Mark distillery

We hit the highway for Bardstown where the Heaven Hill distillery was only about a half-hour away. We rolled right past at the sight of a sign indicating Maker’s Mark was just 18 miles farther.

The two-lane highway wound up and down hills, past wooded areas and green hillsides, and through a few tiny towns. Just when we thought we’d made a wrong turn or missed a sign, we arrived at Maker’s Mark with a few minutes to spare before the distillery’s final tour of the day.

Maker’s Mark featured gorgeous plantation-style grounds and a more hands-on tour where we were allowed to dip our fingers into fermenting yeast for a taste-test. We also saw a barrel storage facility similar to that at Jim Beam, and we even got to look at the assembly line where Maker’s Mark bottles receive their trademark dipped wax top.

Maker's Mark bottle dip fail

After a taste test of two Maker’s Mark products, we dipped our own bottles in wax. Some people — like Bru and Tim — did it properly. I nearly scorched my right hand in the melted wax by dipping the bottle so far that it’s almost completely coated in wax.

Alas, not everything could be perfect on the trip, but Shoney’s and a poorly dipped bourbon bottle were tolerable missteps on an otherwise stellar trip down the Kentucky Bourbon Trail.

In the months following my return from Mount Kilimanjaro last summer, a massive photo and video swap took place between me and my fellow climbers from Canada, England and the United States.

Then, last fall and early winter, I began blending our shared photos and videos from the trip into The Kilimanjaro Project. The idea was to do a day-by-day recap of our trip.

It’s been a slow process. I made significant progress early, devoting multiple late nights and long weekends to piecing it together. Then, as work picked up, I forgot about it for a while.

Most of the days have been put together in a rough draft, although summit night continues to be a challenge due to the limited supply of material from the overnight ascent.

Days one and two are finally complete, however, and here they are:

“Bad Ben” Holmes makes you earn your hardware.

That point was made crystal clear Saturday at the Free State Trail Run at Clinton Lake State Park in Lawrence. In previous years the event has offered marathon, 40-mile and 100-kilometer distances, with the marathon and 40-milers receiving a heavy-duty finisher’s medal and 100K finishers earning a belt buckle.

This year, Bad Ben added a half marathon to the distance offerings, and finishers could earn the same heavy medals. It was a different twist from the Run Toto Run series in February where 10-mile finishers received small dog tags, while 20-mile and 50K finishers received the heavy medals. That course was on a loop, so everyone saw the same terrain — just in different amounts.

Finisher's hardware

At Clinton Lake, however, the four races covered different courses, and all involved a series of punishing hills. I’d guess there were more hills than at Wyandotte County Lake Park, and significantly rockier terrain that included about a quarter of a mile on large rocks along the shoreline where every step was tricky.

When I ran my first trail half marathon five weeks ago, I finished in 2:01.21. That course was actually 13.7 miles, and it was along the smooth, rolling hills of Lawrence Riverfront Park. This time around, my goal on the 13.1-mile Clinton Lake course was to break two hours.

It didn’t take long for it to become abundantly clear that this would be no ordinary jog through the woods — or that a sub-two wouldn’t be happening.

Some courses simply won’t allow a personal record to be set. Some courses are designed specifically to kick your ass. This was one of those courses.

My first mistake was getting boxed in during the first 50 yards before we turned off of a gravel road onto narrow single-track trail in the woods. I spent the first 19 minutes trapped in the logjam of runners before making enough passes to find some space and settle into race pace. At that point, I had no idea exactly what pace I was running, and I never quite figured it out. A steady serving up fast downhill sections, switchbacks and steep uphill climbs quickly fatigued my undertrained legs.

Free State Trail Run Half Marathon

At the point that I wrongly assumed was about five miles in, the course left the woods, crossed the same gravel road where we’d started and dove into the woods on the other side. More hills and switchbacks followed, and then the course tuned to the shoreline where the footing was surprisingly challenging and it was necessary to slow down to avoid busting an ankle.

Even more hills followed before reaching the first manned aid station which I figured, based on time, had to be around the eight or eight-and-a-half-mile point. Upon asking, I was told it was maybe seven miles in, and we’d already been going for 1:25.

The terrain remained the same the rest of the way. Up, down, water crossing, back up, down again and right back up.

In addition to GU packets and Clif Shots, I bolstered my in-race nutrition with salt caplets for the first time in an attempt to fend off calf cramps that have been a constant problem for me in longer races. I took a salt cap every 40 minutes and washed it down with plenty of water. Although I was fatigued, cramps were a nonfactor until about 10 1/2 miles in when the first slight pinches began to set in on both legs. At one point, my right calf began to cramp hard and I was forced to stop and press my heel down against a rock to stretch it out. The final 2 1/2 miles were a mixture of walking and jogging. Thanks to encouraging words from some fellow runners who pulled me along, the final few miles ticked away and I soon popped out of the woods, back onto the gravel road and made it up the hill to the finish line where Bad Ben stood smiling and ready to greet finishers with a firm handshake, some congratulatory words — and a hard-earned finisher’s medal.

It was a relief to be done. Thanks to a nagging foot injury, I wasn’t trained nearly as well as I should have been. I knew that going in, even as I’d held out hope for breaking two hours.

As it turned out, the only way that would have been an attainable goal would have been if I’d borrowed someone else’s legs and lungs. Only two runners broke the two-hour mark.

Free State Trail Run Half Marathon finisher

I finished 34^th out of 122 runners in 2:37.26.

Initially disappointed with that time, my perspective changed within a few hours as I reconsidered the course and gained much greater appreciation for what the marathon, 40-mile and 100K runners must have endured. If the half marathon course was this tough, what did they face?

Depending on the terrain, sometimes it’s important to simply appreciate the fact that you finished.

Besides, when Bad Ben’s handing out medals he’s going to make you earn them.

It’s been one week since running Brew to Brew, but it’s taken that long since motivation has risen enough to write about it.

That’s not to say it wasn’t a good time; it was a blast. But it also was so dang exhausting. I’ve never had such a tough time recovering from a race. Usually it takes two or three days after a long run or race before energy levels return to normal, but this one required a full six days off to work through the aches and pains, veg out and rehydrate.

First, a little background info: Brew to Brew is a 44-mile relay race from Boulevard Brewery in Kansas City, Mo., to Free State Brewery in Lawrence, Kan. It breaks down into 10 legs, and our team’s plan was to have five runners doing two legs apiece. I was going to anchor the final two for 8.7 miles for a tough but relaxed Sunday long run.

Plans changed the Monday before the race when our team captain, Amy, had a family tragedy arise that she needed to tend to. Completely understandable and unavoidable. No problem. Brian and I each agreed to pick up a third leg to compensate. That’d stretch my mileage to 12.7 — a bit tougher, but no problem.

Then, after learning of Amy’s situation, another girl dropped out because she’d had a long flight and she assumed she’d be too tired to run … six days later. That was a pretty unacceptable excuse to me, but whatever. Brian — who’s a beast of a runner — took up a fourth leg, and another friend of Amy’s volunteered to run the first leg.

Problem solved. Missy would run leg one, Brian had legs two, three, four and seven, Aimee had five and six, and I would anchor eight, nine and 10.

We met at Boulevard at about 7:30 a.m. for our 8 a.m. start time. After Missy took off, Brian, Aimee and I did a quick beer toast with some of the complimentary Boulevard they were giving out at the start. Then we set off to meet Missy at the first exchange zone.

Missy came through like a champion, and once Brian was off on leg two I took Missy back to the start so she could grab her car and head home. Aimee, Brian and I were in for the long haul.

Brian had raced Rock the Parkway the day before and hit a half marathon personal record of 1:33. Brew to Brew was his recovery run, and he hit a relaxed clip that would smoke my race pace. Everything went smooth for a bit, but as the day wore on the temperatures rose. This was expected. The projected high was the upper 70s, maybe 80. When Brian handed off to Aimee for the start of leg five, though, it was 86 and rising.

The temperature continued to climb during Aimee’s five-mile leg five. A strong headwind — easily 30 MPH and stronger at times — didn’t help. Neither did the nonexistent cloud cover. As she neared the finish she began to overheat. She was a trooper and wanted to push through it anyway, but Brian and I didn’t let her. No sense in having someone get sick or injured during an event designed for fun. Brian hopped out and ran the final quarter-mile to the finish, and then I picked up leg six for a fourth leg on the day.

Leg six was 3.3 miles that wound up and down paved roads. I’d simply grabbed my water belt and iPod and took off without paying much attention to pace. I felt good when I got to the next exchange zone in 29 minutes and handed off to Brian for his final leg. Still, it gave me a taste of what was to come. The wind was mild on leg six, but I knew it would be much worse toward the end of the race. In addition, the heat was pretty brutal, but leg six was one of the few legs that offered occasional shade.

Brian handled leg seven with more ease than he’d expected, and after clearing the boat crossing he trotted into downtown Linwood and handed off to me for to take the thing home. He’d run about 18 miles for the day and was ready for a much-deserved beer.

As I headed out of Linwood and onto a gravel road, the headwind grew stronger. It was clear the final 12.7 miles weren’t going to be a piece of cake, but I’d felt comfortable on leg six and was well hydrated from downing two liters of Gatorade earlier in the day. I was as prepared as could be expected.

Leg eight covered four miles and took almost 45 minutes. Given the headwind and the distance I had to cover, it was too fast of a pace. Brian — Boulevard Wheat in hand — and Aimee met me at the aid station. I reloaded the four bottles on my belt and told them I felt good. My pace was steady, I felt hydrated and comfortable. Other than the wind, this was a piece of cake.

It was at that point that I said the dumbest thing possible: “I feel good. Go ahead and skip nine and just meet me at the levee in Lawrence. I’ll see you in about an hour and a half.”

With that, they were headed to Lawrence and I was off down the gravel road for what seemed like the longest stretch of ground I’ve ever traveled.

I was about a mile and a half out of the aid station when my right calf began to cramp. I immediately stopped and walked for a bit before returning to a slow jog. Then, the left calf started to cramp. Again, time to walk.

I alternated walking up hills and jogging down hills until even the short jogging stretches were impossible without cramping. The final 2 1/2 miles of leg nine took about 45 minutes, and each step was a reminder of how foolish I’d been to send the team on to the finish.

Finally at the last aid station — skillfully manned by the Kansas City Trail Nerds — I popped a couple snacks and refilled my bottles for the final 4.7-mile march down the levee into Lawrence.

As I was leaving the aid station, I noticed a woman leaning on the railing with a friend. The woman was probably about 70, and I’d seen her on leg nine. She looked exhausted, so I approached and asked if she was OK.

“No,” her friend firmly replied.

“Come on, let’s get her to the aid station and get her in the shade,” I said.

Her friend told me to go ahead since I was running. After replying that I welcomed the break and couldn’t run if I wanted to because I was cramping, I put an arm around the woman and her friend and I began to escort her back to the aid station. About halfway there she began to black out. Trail Nerds from the aid station ran over, and we carried the woman to a chair in the shade where she was given fluid and cool cloth for her head until an ambulance arrived.

Upon seeing the ambulance on the scene, I returned to the levee for the final walk home. My friend Justin of the Lawrence Trail Hawks came along, so we walked together down the levee, into the wind and into the scalding sun, until a mile remained and he jogged on to the finish.

Eventually I reached the bridge where Brian and Aimee were waiting. I hobbled over it to the finish line about an hour behind when I’d told them to expect me.

My 16-mile day was done.

Despite the unexpected obstacles, our team pulled together and finished the race.

Also at the finish line were my friends Sara and Betsy from another team. Sara informed me that it was now 91 degrees.

We headed to Liberty Hall and grabbed dinner and a beer before heading home. It was a great day and a wonderful event with a fun team of people, but that darn heat took the life out of a lot of us.

Free State Brewery later reported that it was the hottest Brew to Brew ever. More than the mileage, the heat and the cramping that came with it fatigued my system more than I could’ve imagined.

Much of the past week I’ve felt brain-dead. My calves hurt and motivation to run was nonexistent. Finally I was back out the door yesterday for an easy 6.5 miles at Shawnee Mission Park with about 16 Trail Hawks who’d made the trip to town for a field trip run. It took my legs a few miles to wake up, but it was good to run again. In the same sense, it’s good to finally relive Brew to Brew and write about it. I want to run it again next year, just not so much of it and not in such extreme heat.