Caleb and I ran the Spanish Fork 1/2 together . . . at least mostly together. He beat me in the end. It was a tough run. Lots of flat, lots of uphill . . . and what seemed like very little downhill. We were breathing heavy from the very beginning. I finally caught my breath long enough to yell a few obscenities at Mile 7. At Mile 11, Caleb was still feeling strong and I was gasping for air. I sputtered, "Go . . . catch . . . that . . . girl!" So, he did. I also yelled, "Go, Clydesdale!" because he had entered the Clydesdale division. I tried to whinny like a horse, but the sound didn't come out.