The sun comes over a ridge in Silverado Canyon on Friday morning.
The mountain biker resting in the shade outside the Silverado Canyon General Store laughed at me.
"You ran 18 miles," he said, "and had to call someone to pick you up with only two miles to go?"
Yeah, dude, rub it in. Plagued by a lack of sleep and not drinking enough water recently, I crashed after a tough run this morning, only 2 miles from my home. I could have made it, of course, but why go through more misery? So I called my pacer to come pick me up. Screw it, I thought. Eighteen miles is decent.
It felt unusually hot in Silverado Canyon, with nary a breeze.
I took off out my front door at 6:30 a.m., ran three miles down the road heading out of the canyon, then did a tough 2-mile climb on the Silverado Truck Trail, then enjoyed a nice 1.5-mile downhill through Williams Canyon, and did a few miles of pavement on the shoulder of Santiago Canyon Road. Then I entered Whiting Ranch from the back side and climbed up to the bench in memory of Mark Reynolds that sits atop Dreaded Hill.
That was 10 miles. Then I retraced my steps, planning for 20. I felt really sapped climbing up Williams Canyon. It was hot hot!
So I made the call.
Oh well. I've never done that before. Sometimes it's better to cut your losses to avoid suffering needlessly.