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The west end brings beautiful snowscapes from the trestle and through the forest. Dang malfunctioning Olympus! I find the fresh, powdery snow difficult to walk or jog on. As I make my first turnaround on this west section I notice that snow melting on my shirt has begun to chill me. I wonder if I can endure five or six more hours of this. Eventually my core temp rises enough so I can tolerate it. I grow so accustomed to the snowscapes that when I come upon the crossing at Meade Drive, the dark asphalt strikes me as surreal.
Snowfall lets up a bit. The trail begins showing a few patches of slush and some mud. Nearing m17 a herd of cows brunch in the pasture. They also create a Region of Code Red Toxic Bovine Air. I watch my step. I reach the staging area and set out a second time on the west end. I find more slush, more mud, more packed snow on the trestles.
By my second turnaround on this segment, most snow has melted. Temps hang in the mid-30's. I don't get to stop at the staging area; I have to repeat the first .6 mile, turn around once more, and finally I get to cross the finish line. I record my worst clock time since Wyoming and Colorado and I enjoyed this day immensely, far more than most. Genuinely nice people, a refreshing
low-key event, beauty of a course, slush and all.
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