The last errand was two miles away.
It was the night before the race, I still had not made it to Target, and there were a few things left to buy. We had to finish setting up, get our runner to bed, and get him to the start.
We were in Arizona for Javelina. This time I was not the athlete trying to control every split. I was on the crew side of the course.
The race site looked like a temporary town. Blue sleeping tents ran along the base of cactus-covered hills. Pop-up canopies made narrow streets through the crew area. Coolers, folding chairs, blankets, water jugs, and bags of food filled every patch of shade.
The runner would leave and return. We would wait, reorganize, and try to anticipate what might matter on the next pass.
Earlier that week, I had introduced myself to a neighborhood running group after moving back to Williamsburg. I wrote that I had been running for more than twenty years and wanted morning training partners. For the next season, I hoped to turn my attention back toward races from the mile through the half marathon.
Javelina was not a morning run in Williamsburg. It went all day and then kept going after dark. At one point, two inflatable dinosaurs shuffled around near the course while the runners kept moving.
After midnight, I sent the update that mattered: the race was finished and our runner needed a minute.
I did not take a finish-line photo. I had tents, a desert sunrise, tired people under canopies, and those two dinosaurs. Then we gathered the gear and got everyone home.