My taper plan had gone perfectly. I had run zero miles the past two days. My body was rested. I was carbo-loaded, fat-loaded, and protein-loaded, almost to the point of being b-loated. My mind was ready to throw down for 3.5miles and like Mr. T, I pitied the fools (not to be named) I was warming up with.
At mile 17, I hopped over a dead mouse laying on the trail. My mind quickly shifted from a feeling of sympathy for the bluish-grey rodent to wondering whether it was an omen. If it was an omen of some sort, how should I take it? Will Tyler Sigl, who was up 10 minutes on me become the dead mouse on the trail? Or will I be the one left with rigor mortis alone on the dusty dirt path? It’ll be Tyler I assured myself; and just as quickly as the mouse came and went, my thoughts turned to the waist deep creek crossing coming up to cool down my legs.