A quick Equinox marathon story: Our buddies from Anchorage, 365 miles down the road, usually come up to stay with us and run the race. Harlow Robinson is a real contender and a good buddy, but this year he didn’t make it up. His brother Vin, another solid human being, came instead, with his wife Denise, new baby Noah, and eight friends. They arrived in darkness at 11 p.m., after Kristen was asleep. I set up people in our small guest cabin, on the floor of our sauna’s changing room, and on the deck of our new addition.

My wife Kristen trained well all summer for the race, and had a good shot at winning. During the race, at about mile 6, a cheery woman ran up next to her, introduced herself, and after a short chat, told Kristen, “I think I slept in your sauna last night.”

Shelley Johnson indeed slept in the sauna, and she won the Equinox Marathon with a time of 3 hours, 21 minutes. Kristen was third at 3:34. She met Shelley at our home for breakfast the next morning (after Shelley spent another night in the sauna). As you can tell from this photo, Kristen, right, seems to be bearing a grudge because Shelley passed her after eating oatmeal Kristen made. No, I think she just made a new friend.

On to my Equinox. I’ve run 14 in all, and today’s effort, at 4 hours, 22 minutes, was the second-slowest of all. My slowest (4:30) was when I ran the marathon after walking the pipeline 10 years ago and hadn’t run a step all summer.

But my times in the race don’t matter anymore, and when I don’t care it makes them more fun, allowing me to be grateful that I’m out there and the machinery of muscle and bone can still carry me that far after being used for 16,000 days.

And thankful I was, for the people who called out my name so many times and reminded me what a community event this is and what a community I live in. For the yellow and green hills, and the fog over the Tanana River as seen from Ester Dome.

It’s a spiritual trip when I run this race (especially when I don’t train much, like this year), and sometimes I get a bit misty. Usually it’s when the gun goes off and I’m headed up the ski hill. This year, because I got there after the cannon went off, it was at 1 mile in. My eyes watered and I got choked up, because I think of all the Equinoxes past (my first was in ’87), and I think of my late Mom and what a tennis player she was, and my late dad and what a resilient human being he was, and I get all veklempt. I can’t help it.

This race has been a big part of my Alaska experience, with so many memories tucked along the trail. And if you’re looking for a challenging and different marathon, come on up next year. Be sure to tell us if you’re a ringer before you bed down in the sauna.

Here’s a photo of my finish from my friend Ben, AK photographer. Check out his scene at http://www.huffphoto.blogspot.com/