Nearly 50 miles in, running in the dark and the drizzle, we’re losing steam when Traci notices an opening in the fence surrounding the high school track.
“Let’s do it!”
It’s the most enthusiasm we’ve shown this entire run, our second of the day. We’ve been bemoaning the fact that as working moms, the thing most likely to defeat us in our quest to run 90 miles in nine days is not our bodies but our schedules.
But the average civilian can’t just go run on a high school track whenever he or she feels like it. They’re kept locked, presumably to prevent vandalism.
It feels like a small illicit thrill to take a lap around the track at Bluffton High School, where a renovation project is under way at the football complex.
Unfortunately, we’ve taken only a few steps when we see lights headed our way. We dart in the opposite direction, summoning energy we didn’t know we still had. Whoever it is has seen us. A truck pulls in beside the bleachers and shines its lights in our direction.
We sprint back to the gap in the fence, inducing a wave of nausea that makes me pause as we get to the other side. Better keep going. We don‘t want to get hassled over something so insignificant, but more importantly, we don‘t want to derail our run.
We jog off to finish our lap around the school. The truck drives around to that side of the campus to keep an eye on us. Whoever it is apparently decides we‘re not much of a threat. We finish our last half mile without hearing sirens.
Fifty miles in five days. A little more than that, actually, between my two “in the bank” and an assorted collection of extra tenths piled up here and there. We might need them in the next couple of days, when we face the most brutal part of our intersecting schedules.