The alarm clock goes off - it’s 5:05am Saturday morning. I’d set it as late as I could for the 8:00 am start of the 25k trail run in Huntsville State Park. Groggily I get out of bed and make my way to the bathroom; on the way I bump into Tom. Immediately he starts to complain that he’s feeling dizzy and is very light headed, doesn’t feel well enough to run, and really wants to go back to bed and not go to Huntsville. He says he shouldn’t have gone to the doctor’s yesterday and let them take all that blood out, or that maybe he picked up some disease from the clinic. I tell him to shut up and not be a wimp. Ugh, I really do not want to hear or cope with this. I fix some breakfast. Tom continues to complain. I wish he hadn't said he needed to join me. I suggest that maybe we should at least drive up to the park, and if he still doesn’t feel like running he can just pick up the pre-race T-shirt, especially as everything is already paid. Reluctantly he agrees. We throw the pre-packed gear into the minivan and we’re off.

Tom drives, but continues to complain. At this stage I’m somewhat nervous about him driving while being light headed; I hope it’ll soon wear off. Oh well, we get on the freeway and at least we are on our way. It’s a fairly uneventful drive, though Tom still says he feels dizzy when he moves his head; I tell him to just look straight ahead, as I continue to nervously watch the road. Fortunately, at this time on a Saturday morning, there is very little traffic, and the occasional dampness on the road is no real cause for concern. As we near Huntsville there’s lightening off to the West. I know Tom sees it, but I don’t say anything. The weather forecast threatens rain and thunderstorms all morning long; it’ll be interesting to see how much we really get. I hope it doesn’t rain before we start the race, and give Tom yet another reason to complain. I did this race last year and it was a load of fun. I’m glad Tom wasn’t with me then, and I’m wondering how I can get rid of him now. We enter the park, and I see the sign "Beware this park contains alligators"; I start thinking and planning!

Tom parks the minivan, and we go to check in. I grab my race packet and number, and momentarily lose Tom. Then, as I'm talking to Mariela he re-appears. Mariela is so sweet, and despite Tom's grumblings she wishes us a good run. As we wait for the start, the rain comes and goes; fortunately it is just light rain. Down to the start line, and we listen as the race director gives the pre-race talk. He says we'll be doing the first mile on the park road, as there are so many runners for the 25k run - about 300 of us.

At 8:00 am, the race director shouts "Go", and we're off. After about 10 minutes, we turn right off the road and onto the trails through the East Texas pine trees. The trail is mostly dry - the light rain has only dampened the dirt, and in many places it is still very sandy. Lift the feet up, watch out for tree roots, see where the runner in front is going, look at the ground, and pick a path forward. For the moment I'm mostly distracted by the running, even though Tom continues to nag and complain; at least he’s not quite as vehement as before. Soon we turn left, and it's up the jeep road towards the first of the three aid stations. Tom and I mostly walk up the hills. I shouldn't really call them hills because they're more like gentle undulations. Tom keeps telling me to walk more as he says he still feels light headed, and I keep setting goals of when we need to run again - after all this is a run not a stroll through the park! And so it goes on. We're into aid station number one, at about mile 4, in a time of 42 minutes. Grab some pretzels and drink, and we're off again back down the jeep road. Every up slope Tom wants to walk; grrrr, oh well, maybe I should relent a little and save some energy for later.

39 minutes and 3.5 miles later we get to the second aid station. Tom is pretty quiet at the moment. I hope he stays that way as now I've really had enough of him. Refill the water/gatorade bottle, eat and grab some pretzels, and then we’re off again. It's a relatively long haul to the third aid station (5 miles), but hopefully it'll be an uneventful leg. The rain is still mostly holding off, just a few sprinkles here and there, although the threat seems omnipresent as we continue to hear the roll of thunder. For the first mile, we play leapfrog with a pair of runners, as we keep passing each other - this is now fun. As we pull ahead again, all of a sudden Tom shouts that he feels a twinge in his knee and he thinks it's the ITB coming back, and that we need to slow down. Arghh, that's it, I've had enough. Run faster and vary the stride, I tell him - we speed up, through the switchbacks, down the slope, out of the trees, to the lake, and onto a long stretch of wooden trellis walkway that crosses the lake. As the walkway turns to the left, I see my chance, and push Tom. Into the water, reeds, water lilies and who knows what else, he tumbles. Maybe he'll drown, maybe he'll be lunch for the fish or the alligators - I no longer care. I put on an extra turn of speed, cross the rest of the trellis bridge, onto firm ground again and back into the trees. I don't look back. I feel so much better.

Now there is no more nagging or complaining; at last, I can run my race! I see runners ahead and slowly "pull them in". One by one, I catch and pass them. 58 minutes after leaving the 2nd aid station I'm into the third aid station, at campsite 174. Mariela is volunteering here, and she asks how I'm doing. I reply just fine - I don't mention Tom; she doesn't ask. A quick photo, and I'm off for the last leg - it's a little less than 3 miles. Immediately, two runners catch up with me. We push and pull each other through the remainder of the run in 28 minutes, and I finish with a total time of 2 hours and 47 minutes. I feel good.

I get a nice hot shower, change out of my running gear, and go back to the aid station at campsite 174. I thank the volunteers, and leave to drive home - alone. I hope I don't see that version of my Doubting Thomas again any time soon on my runs.