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<\/a><\/p>\nMaybe it was because some folks opted out due to wildfires, smoke, and travel plans being disrupted due to their prebooked hotels en route back to their homes cancelling due to evacuations.<\/p>\n
And I know it was partly because some folks had to get back to Florida to prep for the imminent Hurricane Irma landfall.<\/p>\n But I wonder if it was because this was the second day in Idaho and folks who were going for their 50 states didn’t see a need to repeat.<\/p>\n I also wonder if it was a Thursday so people might have had to, I dunno, work or something.<\/p>\n I do know there was a bit of a game changer today. Yesterday at the exact same time, the sprinklers of Hells Gate had already finished. But today, the park ran a crazed schedule wherein they’d go off for a few minutes, shut off and then start back up again. Then they’d finish and as I looped back around I thought they were done for good… only to hear that unmistakeable sound echoing through the darkness. PaSHEW. The sprinkler heads rise. Splift-Splift-Splift. Chick-chick-chick-chick. And repeat. For literally hours. And I know this because I was on the course for hours. And I also know that as I was leaving to rush back to my crappy hotel, the sprinklers went off once more.<\/p>\n As a result of all this, Day 6 made for a revisit of a Wipeout Ridiculous Obstacle Course race I did a few years back. Although unlike then, my arm wasn’t in a sling. Ya know what’s dumb? Running an obstacle course when your wrist may be broken. I’m like Winnie the Pooh – dumb as rocks.<\/p>\n And unlike the Wipeout course, instead of ducking and weaving to avoid giant foam arms or bouncing on big red balls, in Lewiston I was trying to avoid the seeming jet turbine powered stream of water that would randomly spray across the bike trail course.<\/p>\n Every time I thought I’d successfully dodged a series of sprinkler sprays — FAWOOSH! I’d get blindsided by an unexpected jet, hitting me with an unstoppable, wet force… and I, as an easily moveable object, was like a wet noodle.<\/p>\n I could chronicle the supportive folks on the course and off. I could mention people hitting personal goals. But instead, here’s some shots of the sprinklers in action:<\/p>\n When all was said and done, the traditional end of series hot dogs were grilling on the portable propane tank and I indulged in one of only three occasions when I have a dog.<\/p>\n My time for the day? Three hours, fifty minutes, forty-four seconds.<\/p>\n Herein ends the Northwest Series.<\/p>\n Next week the CON is on. The Center of the Nation. Six days, six states, six more marathons. But first a brief respite.<\/p>\n ***<\/p>\n On the long drive back to Seattle, I detoured ever so slightly to North Bend. There, I indulged in something else entirely.<\/p>\n Twede’s Cafe: The Return.<\/p>\n What year is this? What race is this? I was last here as part of the Jack N Jill double<\/a> wherein I tried and failed for my sub 3 moonshot. At that time I ate at the Double R cafe’s stand in, but I never did have the fabled Twin Peaks inspired cherry pie.<\/p>\n Today, that all changed.<\/p>\n And though it was all too much, and my plan of taking tomorrow off has now been reset to a short recovery and pie-penalty run, it was in truth damn fine pie.<\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a> <\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a><\/p>\n<\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a><\/p>\n<\/a> <\/a><\/p>\n<\/a> <\/a> <\/a><\/a><\/p>\n<\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a><\/p>\n