Wince.

Today's hit to my tender male psyche was brought to you by the EX2Adventures Backyard Burn trail race. Yep, I finished dead last, right in front of the nice lady, a "sweeper" in the parlance of the active set, who walked and ran behind me as I limped through this little race.

Tree roots, treacherous mud, wet leaves, splashy stream crossings; all of it I expected would add a jolly nature to a cold Fall morning run. We'd have the camaraderie of a platoon at a double-time pace mixed with the glorious grit of the Raid Gauloises. But, alas.

Mile 3 was tough, and the knee began to raise a ruckus. Around mile 4, at a long and overly steep descent, one marked "XXX Extreme Danger" or some-such, the old knee gave out and I pretty much hobbled it, cursing under my breath in pain and irritation, from there to the finish. I was able to run the flats but the downhills required crab-walking, favoring my left, and the uphills weren't much better. I finished at a run.

Hardest short race ever.

The redeeming bit was that the 10-mile race was two laps of the same loop, and since I was lapped by some of those maniacs admirable athletes (80 or less minutes for the 10 miles) it wasn't obvious to the crowd that I was dead last. Hooray for small victories (or at least camouflaged public failure!)

The season's done, back on the job in March.

I'll be taking the elevator at work tomorrow.