Moab 240

The sun has gone down outside,
I bounce around the walls of my hotel room,
Searching for something I have overlooked.
There is nothing though, I have never been more prepared for anything in my entire life.
This is just a failing attempt to keep my mind off what lies before me.
No luck, I collapse onto my mattress,
And let the thoughts bounce around in my head.
I am certain I will not fall asleep.
But soon enough…

I awake a moment before my alarm goes off.
And now it begins.
The countdown has shrunk from months to weeks to days.
Now I watch as hours disappear, replaced by minutes,
And at this moment it seems that all this time has passed with the blink of an eye.

I sit on the edge of my bed eating a Clif Bar,
And sipping coffee from a paper cup.
I hate waiting.
I wish I could go to sleep again, and wake up at the start line,
With the starting gun as my alarm.

Getting dressed.
I had put on my race clothes last night to make sure everything was in order.
I didn’t bother tying my shoes then but I do now.
It’s dark still as I pull away from the hotel, and the roads are empty.
The city is still asleep,
And I wonder where I will be by the time they all wake up.

The start line is a churning mass of shadows.
Darkness pierced by dancing light,
The shifting headlamps have
The same effect as strobes.
I hear my name and number called and someone grabs my vest,
Attaching something to the strap.
The GPS beacon that will drop virtual bread crumbs as I run.

The race begins in staggered groups and I am in the first to go.
A pledge is repeated by the runners before we start.
“If I get lost, hurt or die…it’s my own damn fault.”
Cheers arise and we depart,
Shooting off at a pace that is much too fast.
All of us have been so eager for this moment.
We make our way through Moab, I’m anxious to leave it behind.
I hope not to return again until my feet have covered every inch of 240 miles.

I leave the pavement for the trail as the black of night turns gray.
The path bobs and winds along the base of a ridge.
We slink along, clumping together and spreading out again.
In these early moments of the journey there is a surreal-ness that surrounds me.
A disbelief that I am actually here,
And the peripheral knowledge that I do not yet comprehend the challenge that awaits me.
Soon the sun breaks the upon horizon, and the landscape sharpens as it rises.

I descend and veer away from the rock wall I’ve been skirting.
Ahead I can see a cluster of tents,
The first checkpoint, 9 miles in.
This is not a place to rest, only to refuel.
I drink some water, and fill the flasks on my vest.
Further down I grab some food and eat as someone sprays sunblock on my neck.

I leave in the same direction I came, back to the ridge.
I am going to climb it now, I know, since I’ve been here once already.
I came out here one morning to test my lungs in the higher air.
Winding around and back and up, stumbling over rocks.
My muscles burn for the first time, but the top is in sight.
When I reach it there’s a valley,
Hidden between the cliff I just climbed and another further on.
Running through the shade, the sun has not yet been here this early.
The ground is soft and sandy,
On a narrow path that carves its way through long grass.

I return again to the sun,
And trade the sand for rock.
Up and down, up and down.
My mind begins to settle.
I feel the adrenaline release its grip that has held me since the start.
A flash of understanding, of how far I plan to go.
240 miles was just a number, for a second it became more.
But as soon I comprehend, it fades away,
Again unfathomable.

Moving across slick rock now.
The trail is marked only by cairns and thin lines painted on the rock.
The landscape is wild, like another planet.
I imagine that I have left earth, and am now exploring Mars.
The heat becomes uncomfortable so I strip my outer layer of clothing.
I feel a momentary chill as the breeze meets the perspiration on my skin.
But the sun soon bakes it dry, and I am hot again.

The trail makes a sudden turn, and steadily descends.
At the bottom, the Colorado River snakes its way into the distance.
Finally down, I am running on pavement.
Cars drive past and people yell words of encouragement from open windows.
They shout complements at the runners,
Saying how impressive we are.
But we have done nothing yet.
Many of us will give up and quit long before those words are earned.

Vehicles are parked on the side of the road as I approach the second checkpoint.
18 miles in, not even a dent in the distance left.
The aid station is crowded,
As the field has not thinned out, but it will.
I sit for a moment to readjust my pack and eat a couple bites of food.
Then stand again and walk toward the start of the next section.
A lady stands there with a clipboard, and checks my number off as I depart.
The trail dips down into a clump of trees and over a small footbridge,
Then up the rock face of a mesa, back the way I came.
I can see the people at the aid station growing smaller as I climb.
Soon I turn a corner and they are gone.

I’m 20 miles in now, 220 miles to go.
I ran 100 miles for the first time a couple months ago.
At the end of that, I felt certain that I could not take another step.
But here I am attempting to double it, and then add another 40 miles too.
I understand running 20 miles.
I know how long it will take,
How it will feel, how it will hurt.
At any point in a 20 mile run, I can say exactly what mile I am on,
Without even glancing at my watch.
But I cannot wrap my mind around twelve 20 mile runs,
Back to back.
I do not know what I will feel at mile 100,
When I’ve matched the longest run I have ever done,
And have to confront the fact that I am not even halfway to the finish.
And I don’t know how it will hurt at mile 140,
When I am beat up and tired with 100 miles left.
I will have climbed a mountain, and still will have another one to climb.
I do not think the person I am now would be strong enough to continue.
But I will be different when that time comes.
I will be stronger then.

I am on a wider trail now, sharing the road with ATVs.
Soon the route veers off to a narrower path.
In the middle of the way is the carcass, bones and skull of a since dead animal,
Partially buried in the sand.
It occurs to me suddenly that I am in the wilderness.
This dead creature was once just as alive as I am now.
And I am just as fragile as they were,
A collection of bones and muscle.
I am no longer in the safety of the world I am used to.
This is not a place that humans have conquered, molding it to their comfort.
I am alone here, it is exhilarating and terrifying.
And I wonder what it would be like many years ago, traveling this land when it was truly wild.
But I will settle for what it is now.

The trail approaches a cliff,
Then it turns to run parallel with it.
The ground below stretches out in a vast expanse.
Towering buttes and mesas disrupt the flat terrain for as far as I can see.
Suddenly the path before me vanishes.
As I near the ledge I realize that it is not as it appears.
It seems that the face of the cliff has fallen off,
And the massive rocks create a steep ramp leading down to the ground.
And through this apparent rockslide is a series of switchbacks that will take me down.
It is not a smooth descent, but there is a certain beauty to it,
The precariousness of the many rocks, haphazardly stacked upon each other.
I feel tiny as I bounce down from rock to rock.

My feet sink into sand as I make it to the bottom.
I shuffle clumsily over it, feeling my leg muscles burn from the exertion.
I am thankful for the gaiters around my shoes,
They would otherwise be filled with tiny abrasive rocks wreaking havoc on my feet.
Fuck it’s hot.
I suck water from the flask resting against my chest.
I remind myself that I need to be conservative with my intake.
I am only about halfway to the next aid station.

I run out of water with two miles left,
And I feel a sense of panic.
Not because of the two miles left to go before I can refill my bottles.
But because of the next section,
Which will be even longer than this, 20 miles totally exposed.
During the hottest part of the day.
I tell myself it will be fine.

I arrive at the checkpoint 32 miles into this adventure.
People are resting here, sitting on chairs and logs.
Shoes off, feet up.
It seems that everyone is taking their time, not eager to leave.
This looks to be one of the most difficult sections we will have to face.
I drink more than I need, I have a bad feeling about what’s coming.
I sit on a log and remove my shoes,
Checking my feet for any sign of blisters or hotspots.
The tiniest issue now will become disastrous later on.
They look okay so I change my socks and put back on my shoes.
And now it’s time.

I feel a rush as I stand,
And energy coursing through me that I did not have a moment before.
Something about leaving the safety of the aid station behind,
And moving again out into the unknown.
It gets me going.

I stop briefly at a water drop a few miles in.
This marks the beginning of the 20 miles.
There is no more water from here.
I strike up a conversation with another runner as I leave,
And we stay together for hours, talking and sharing miles.
It’s funny how this works,
How easy it becomes to open up to a total stranger in the middle of the desert.
I’ve found these interactions to be common during ultramarathons.
It is a way to distract from the hell we are traveling through.
The hell is not so bad if you do not think about it.
And so we talk. About anything and everything.
It doesn’t matter, as long as we do not think about where we are,
Or what we are are doing,
Or especially, how far we have to go.

The terrain is a mix of sand and loose rocks.
The view ahead is incredible.
So vast, so open.
And everything appears untouched until land meets the sky at the horizon.
Towering rocks and plummeting canyons.
The sun is getting lower now too.
The colors become vibrant,
As if you ratcheted up the saturation settings on a camera.

But soon the colors are gone, and everything is black.
The heat did not leave with the sun as I had hoped.
And I am alone again.
The spontaneous partnership that formed earlier ended just as casually as it began.
One person speeds up and the other slows down.
Then “I’ll see you soon.”
“Later brother.”

I’ve been trying to drink as little as possible.
It’s a good thing too, since it’s still as hot as the day.
The heat no longer burns like it did in the sun.
But now at night it is suffocating.
And still about 5 miles to go before a short respite from the trail.
I can tell that we are all suffering now,
Everyone is running low or out of water.
If I suck hard from the straw connected to the pouch on my back,
I can get a drop that wets my mouth for just a brief second.
Some people have had nothing to drink for miles.

A woman appears on the side of the path,
Hunched over, sitting on a rock.
I can tell that she is not okay and I stop to check on her.
She looks at me but seems dizzy and unable to focus her eyes.
She asks me if I know where the trail is.
We are standing on it.
I ask when she last drank.
She doesn’t know.
I have no water left to give her.
I help her stand and tell her that we will get to the aid station and she will be okay.
She seems very dehydrated.
And I fear for her that the next checkpoint will be her finish line.
We continue on, her, me, and a few others.

Lights appear out of the darkness, and silhouettes approach.
We hand over the dehydrated woman to medical staff,
And I make my way to the center of this makeshift oasis.
It looks like a battlefield hospital.
There are cots strewn about, but not enough, so people are on the ground as well.
Everyone here looks rough.
I sit down with a plate of food,
Chicken and cheese quesadillas and a couple cookies.
I overhear volunteers talking to each other behind me.
Apparently there are a ton of drops in this section.
People ran out of water because of the heat.

I feel lucky to have made it through okay.
I wonder how many people here will not be continuing, only 57 miles in.
I need to leave.
Everyone around seems broken and on the verge of quitting.
Don’t want to be around this shit,
I can feel it poisoning my thoughts.
I quickly remove my shoes to do triage on my feet.
Check for blisters,
Wash off sand and dirt,
Apply chafing butter,
Change socks.
Good to go.

I move back into the darkness.
First the voices from the camp disappear, and then the light.
My feet crunch on the rock trail,
The only sound that breaks the silence.
It’s an eerie feeling being alone out here in the night.
As if I am in limbo.
Where there is nothing in front of me and nothing behind.
And though the ground passes beneath me,
I go nowhere.
As I float through the blackness that surrounds me,
I feel reality slipping away.
At some point my brain begins to conjure memories from long ago.
Things I didn’t know were still with me.
People and places and forgotten moments that I assumed were lost to the haze of time.
But I see them now as clearly as if I were watching a movie.
The lack of external stimulants seems to have created a vacuum which my mind now fills.
And as I see my past play out before me,
I wonder how that person could end up where I am now.
And I think that I did not realize how fluid people are,
How much we change.
Our identity seems so concrete to us, and in the moment, so permanent.
But we are more like water.
Always changing, even while the components that form us remain the same.

I continue on in this waking dream for miles, one foot in front of the other.
Mind slipping from one thought to the next.
I am pulled from this state when something materializes on the side of the trail.
A folding table with a jug of water sitting on the edge.
I pause to top off my supply,
And another person arrives as I leave,
And now there are two lights bouncing along in the darkness.
There is no conversation as we run,
As there had been with the other runner earlier in the day.
Though we are next to each other on the path, we run alone.
It is no longer worth the effort to fake optimism or enjoyment.
I fooled myself for most of the first day,
But now it is time to accept the reality of the situation.
This will not be fun or easy, and it will hurt much worse than I feared.
Maybe worse than any pain I’ve ever felt.
There is no use in trying to hide from that fact,
But there is strength in this realization.

Hope is a weakness.
A fickle emotion that cannot be trusted.
At some point it will leave you,
And if you depended upon it,
You will be crushed.
It is better to surrender it willingly before it is clawed away,
And throw yourself into the flames.
If you can continue on, even in despair,
The pain becomes meaningless.
Then there is no reason to avoid it,
So there is no reason to quit.
Completely broken,
You will be stronger than you’ve ever been.

My mind shifts back to the dead carcass I saw on the path earlier.
Maybe I am not as fragile as it was.
Maybe I am more than just a lump of bone and muscle.
I remember a quote I read once by Gérard d’Aboville,
The first man to row solo across two oceans.
When asked why he did it, he said,
“Only an animal does useful things.
An animal gets food and finds a place to sleep,
Tries to keep comfortable.
But I wanted to do something that was not useful- not like an animal at all.
Something only a human would do.”
And maybe that too is why I am here.
For a short period of time, to transcend the day to day life we all must live,
The life that is driven by necessity,
And the mundanity of doing things simply to survive.
Of course we must do these things,
But we have an awareness of something more.
A desire to challenge the limits we create in our heads,
And to make ourselves more than what we are now.
And an understanding that we are temporary,
That the point of living is not just to stay alive,
But to fill the fleeting moment that we are given.
What I am doing now is not necessary,
There is no need to feel this pain.
I can stop and it will all go away.
The animal part of my brain wants to stop,
But I can choose to continue, to ignore the voice I hear begging me to quit.
Because I can, so I will.

It has been more than a day since I woke up,
And I have been running for almost 24 hours.
The next aid station should be somewhere just ahead.
I need food, I can feel my energy slipping.
I think I will lay down, and maybe take a 15 minute nap if I am able to fall asleep.
I kind of doubt it.
My eyes are heavy, but my brain is buzzing.
The last few miles seem to take forever, as they always do.
But it finally appears,
Just when it seems that the universe is playing some cruel joke on me,
That I will never reach my destination,
Cursed to run the last mile in perpetuity.

I follow arrows leading through a small city of cars and RVs.
Friends and family of runners, waiting for them to appear from the darkness.
People cheer as I a pass,
And I realize that I am glad there is no one here waiting for me.
Ahead there is a line of popup tents, volunteers serving food and drinks.
Further on there is a fire surrounded by folding chairs.
And behind that is a line of cots.
I sit by the fire, savoring the embrace of its warmth.
I peel the foil from a cheeseburger that was handed to me as I passed.
I don’t even like burgers, but at this moment it is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.
I debate if I should try to sleep.
I feel wide awake now, sitting here eating,
But I remember how tired I was just a short while ago.
I decide to lay down just for a moment.
I’ve heard stories about micro naps helping people power through multi day races.
But the moment I lay down I know there is no chance of falling asleep,
And it feels as though I am wasting precious time.
I sit up and reach for my duffel bag, which was waiting for me here.
It is stuffed with everything I could possibly need, other than what I already carry.
Sleeping bag, shoes, clothes, batteries, chargers, food, bars ,gels, advil, salt, caffeine first aid kit, head lamps, etc.
I resupply quickly and hand it back to a volunteer who will send it on,
To wait for me at a later station.
Again I check my feet.
They ache but there are still no glaring issues, blisters or otherwise.
I am thankful for this, though I do not believe my luck will hold out forever.
I remind myself that the future does not exist,
Only the present, and all that matters is what can be done right now.
The rest will take care of itself.

And just like that,
I depart from the place that I had been praying to reach for hours.
I find myself on a gravel road,
Wide and flat enough for the heavy vehicles I had seen at the last checkpoint.
I do not know what terrain I am moving through,
It is still dark but it seems flat and open.
Gradually, the sky’s inky black becomes a dark, dark blue.
Then a flare appears on the horizon,
And colors of pink and orange radiate out, overtaking the darker shades.
The way ahead becomes visible.
And then, after traveling on this road for about 3 miles,
The course abruptly turns left onto a paved highway.
It slopes gently down and then flattens out,
Slicing through a vast plain,
Patches of grass and short brush.
In the distance, massive rocks loom above the landscape,
So large that they appear to be much closer than I know they are.
To my right, small hills rise, formed by tiers of red rock.
As a towering plateau approaches ahead to my left,
The course cuts off the paved road to the right.
Winding through a grassy field with rolling hills.
This section has been pretty easy,
And I am feeling more awake having made it through the night.

At some point the trail enters more arid terrain.
The plants disappear and I am running on sand.
Actually it’s more of a powdery red dirt.
I make my way clockwise around a giant rock,
And as I round this massive bend, the trail enters a dry wash.
Further on, shallow water flows over the sand.
And now the trail rises.
At this incline I enter a campground.
I assume the next checkpoint is very close.

I arrive at the “island” aid station 29 hours into the race.
87 miles in, the next section will send me over 100 miles.
I am feeling alert and mentally clear, but I can tell my feet need some work.
I can feel a blister forming on my little toe which has been bothering me.
I sit in a chair as a volunteer brings me food and refills my liquids.
I examine my feet.
They don’t look too bad except for the outside toes.
There is a volunteer going around draining and re-taping people’s feet.
I ask if she will look at mine.
She brings over her bag and gets to work.
It is crazy how big of a difference this makes.
My feet feel brand new as I put back on my shoes and stand up.

This aid station is situated on the raised shelf of a mesa.
The more resilient caprock shoots upward forming a long narrow ridge.
I start out again,
Doubling back to wrap around the end of this ridge, and continuing forward on the other side.
There seems to be more green over here,
It stretches out over the plain below that sits between this formation and another in the distance.
Giant rocks and boulders are strewn about,
And I wonder how they arrived at the spot they now rest.
Did they fall at some point from the heights above,
Or were they always there waiting to be sculpted from the dirt?
I imagine what it would look like to see rocks of this size falling from the sky.
My eyes again grow heavy toward the beginning of this 15.5 mile section.
I lightly slap the sides of my face, and the sting briefly wakes me up,
But unfortunately this is not a sustainable solution.
I lay down on the side of the trail,
Closing my eyes and letting myself drift to the edge of consciousness.
Just as I feel myself slipping into sleep, I pull myself back and open my eyes.
Closing them again, I repeat this exercise a few more times.
Then I rise back to my feet and continue on,
Still tired but no longer struggling to keep my eyes open.

It’s getting quite hot now.
The trail rises steadily,
A wall of rock to my left, a cliff edge to my right.
I’m no longer alert, but moving in a daze.
In this stupor I stop monitoring my water, drinking much too fast.
Soon I realize that I am on my last half liter, 7.5 miles from the next refill.
I know this isn’t good, but all I can do is move forward.
My mouth is parched.
I take smaller and smaller sips as my bottle empties.

Further on I duck into shade for a few moments with a couple other runners.
The hottest part of the day. It is scorching.
I am out of water now with about 4 miles left.
I try not to think about how thirsty I am.
I’m doing ok for a while, but then I see a small pond a little way off to my right.
I stop in my tracks.
The water is stagnant and looks pretty gross.
It is definitely not safe to drink, but I am tempted to go dunk my head in it.
Being poisoned doesn’t sound so bad if it means I get to drink something.
I reluctantly pull myself away and continue.

I run along side a woman further up the trail.
She ran out of water also, but only recently, and still seems to be fine.
She offers me a gel packet.
It does not quench my thirst, but it makes me feel slightly better.
I recognize her accent as Czech, and she confirms when she says she is from Prague.
I tell her that I had spent the prior year there,
And we chat as we slowly move closer to the aid station.
I am getting dizzy now, I feel like I’m floating.
I’m glad we are close, I think I’m going to pass out.
Finally I see it up ahead, and make my way to the water.
I mumble that I am really dehydrated to one of the volunteers,
I don’t think he understood me.
Fading.
My left leg gives out, I stumble into someone standing next to me.
Being grabbed now, by both arms, walking over to another pop up tent.
Laying on a cot.
I’m handed a styrofoam cup, cold liquid touches my lips.
I feel it going down my throat, and it is like being dunked into an ice bath.
All of a sudden I am freezing cold, shaking uncontrollably.
But I am alert.
They bundle me up in a blanket.
I was overheating, and the cold drink shocked my system.
Now they have me drink hot water to balance my temperature,
This is hilarious, I’m like a yo-yo.
I am told I have to stay for a half hour before I can leave.

Well that sucked.
But I’m good now.
I must focus on the next section.
This will be Mile 102 to mile 121,
Entering the Abajo Mountains.
I will be climbing 4,200ft and will be going up to 8,000ft+ in altitude.
I’ve been nervous about this, I was not able to do much mountain training in Ohio.
If I’m going to crash and burn, it will be in the following hours.
As hot as the day was, I know I will miss it tonight,
Climbing a mountain in the dark.
I take a pair of thermal leggings from my pack along with an Under Armour top and a jacket.
Hat and gloves will come out soon as well.
I get something to eat and more to drink.

It’s time to go now, and I tell myself that I am ready.
The sun has gone down,
I will move this mountain in the night.
When morning comes it will be behind me.

I set off, lucky to be continuing after how rough the last section was.
The course starts out going downhill.
This annoys me since there is so much climbing ahead.
I’m jogging down a gravel road.
Suddenly the course markings veer me sharply off it,
Into woods down a steep trail.
It is pitch black, the darkness swallows the beam of my headlamp.
I can’t get a sense of what direction I’m heading,
There are many turns, and I am becoming disoriented.
I focus on the glowing trail markers that guide the way.
At some point the trail enters a dry wash.
Stumbling over rocks.
It seems like I am going in circles, everything looks the same.
I see dark objects on the ground all around me.
They almost look like snakes coiled up,
Or are they leaves?
My eyes are playing tricks on me.
I’ll just ignore them, and try to focus on the trail markers.

I’m finally out of what seemed to be a dry river bed.
Now there is a steady climb up a hill.
It’s a straight shot for as far as I can see, but I can’t see far.
My phone dings.
Someone texted me, I guess I have service.
It’s my brother Alec.
Now he’s calling me. We talk for a moment.
It fires me up, hearing his voice.
For hours I’ve been playing defense, just trying to weather the storm.
But now I want to attack.
This mountain is just a rock,
But I can hear him taunting me.
He tells me that I will not get past.
That he is going to break me.
He sounds so cocky, like I don’t even have a chance.
But I am going to fucking bury him.
I will tear him down stone by stone.
And when the sun comes up,
There won’t even be a fucking hill here anymore.
I push on, head buzzing.

The trail dips back down, and I cross over a stream.
The climb begins.
Straight up, steep.
Then it flattens out slightly, cutting across the incline.
The trail is hard to see in places.
I turn my head from side to side,
Trying to get the light to catch a piece of the glowing trail markers.
I’m getting cold, the chill starts to bite.
Again it seems that I am running where I’ve already been.
Everything appears the same in the dark.
The climbs seem impossibly steep, I could almost use a ladder.
It flattens out again, but not for long.
I feel like I am in a nightmare, climbing a mountain that will never end.

I don’t know when I get to the top exactly,
But at some point the trail flattens out.
And then starts to go down.
Soon I come to a road.
It gently descends and I make way about 4 miles from the next checkpoint.
My mind is numb.
I’ve not slept since the start of the race, almost two days earlier.
I’m close to halfway done, but how can I make it to the end?
Doing what I just did all over again seems impossible.
Just get to the next checkpoint, then go from there.
I try to force myself to think this way, but it’s harder now.
I remember earlier when I came into an aid station,
Glad that there was nobody waiting for me.
I wish there was someone waiting for me now.
The road begins to go up again,
This has to be the last climb, just a couple miles away.
I hope to see a sign of the aid station around every bend,
But it keeps failing to appear.
I want to yell in frustration.
How am I not there yet?
I’m so tired.
This is fucking dumb, why am I even doing this?
Then I see a light up ahead.
A woman sitting in a chair directs me onward.
I move forward and see people sitting around a fire.
There are a couple tables with people cooking food behind them.
Another woman walks up to me and starts asking questions.
How am I feeling?
Do I know where I’m at?
How many fingers is she holding up?
Have I slept at all?
Now she’s shining a light in my eyes making me follow her finger.
Apparently they do a medical check at the halfway point,
To make sure people are able to continue.
I guess I passed her test.
Sitting at the fire, someone brings me a quesadilla.
There’s a blanket around me now.
I stare at my feet.
I’m okay.
The end of this section was the lowest I’ve felt all race, but already I’m forgetting.
The “nurse” that was asking me questions sits and talks to me.
She asks how old I am.
“Twenty-four.”
She thinks I’m one of the youngest people still going.
She wants me to sleep before I continue.
I do not argue, that sounds great.
She takes me to a tent with cots set up inside.
She brings my duffel bag, which has been waiting for me here.
I take off my shoes and climb into the sleeping bag.
I close my eyes, but I feel wide awake again and cannot sleep.
I could barely keep my eyes open for the last two hours,
But now, laying in my sleeping bag…
The alarm I set goes off after 45 minutes,
I have watched the minutes tick down, never losing consciousness.
But as I sit up I feel refreshed.
It’s very cold now, the tent flaps flutter violently in the wind.
I take a heavier coat from my bag.
I change my shirt, it feels nice to put on something clean.
My shoes are very tight now,
I switch into the other pair, a half size larger.
That’s better.

I step outside, met by the gray morning light.
The cold wind hits my face.
I fill my flasks and eat a burnt pancake.
I can feel my head nodding,
As if responding to the voice I hear inside telling me that it’s time,
I cannot stay here, I must move on.
And so I do.
Jogging to the end of a dirt road and turning left onto pavement.
It is amazing to be on an actual road after climbing over loose rocks all night.
Soon I am overheating, and stop to strip the layers I have just added to my kit.
This road continues for a few miles.
Then the course takes a right turn onto a dirt jeep trail.
The terrain is sand and loose rocks,
The trail runs through dry brush and gnarled trees.
It continues like this for some time.
I’m moving well now, feeling good.
Mornings are always easy.
At times I can get a glimpse behind the brush on my left.
The desert below stretches out to the horizon.
An ocean made of sand.
Eventually the brush clears, and I wind along the side of a ridge.
The sun is higher in the sky and I can feel it baking the sand around me.
The course suddenly turns away from the ridge,
And circles down to the expanse below.
The trail here is faint but it’s not hard to follow.

I look at my watch.
I am almost to the 140 mile mark.
Holy shit.
I feel high now, running a sub 8:00 minute pace.
I know it is stupid to be moving this fast,
But I don’t care, I just covered 140 miles.
And I’m fucking running.
Fuck my feet. Fuck my legs.
I will run until they fall off, then run on the stubs of what is left.
This feeling won’t last, but I will ride the wave until it crashes.
Then I will tread water until I catch another one.
One way or another, I will make it to shore.

Clouds begin to gather as I move out into the desert.
It looks like it will rain.
Wind begins to blow in, much warmer than the wind I felt on the mountain this morning.
It is a little bit cooler without the sun.
Very close to the aid station now.
I chat with another runner.
He has his gaiters sewn to his shoes.
It’s a good idea, I’ll keep that in mind next time I do this…

It sprinkles briefly, but the sky never opens up.
The wind continues to blow, and sand is whipped into my face.
I’m going to have to make some adjustments before I start the next section.
We cross a road and dip into a small ravine,
There is a line of cars parked here, people waiting for their runners.
My partner leaves me as the aid station appears.
I walk to the food tent, and a man there makes me a burrito.
It’s egg, cheese, and bacon, and it is so freaking good.
I walk over to the pile of drop bags,
And find the one that I had delivered to this checkpoint.
I sit on a chair and clean my feet, then put on fresh socks.
I arrange the buff I’m wearing into a makeshift balaclava.
With my sunglasses on, my nose is the only thing still exposed.
This will do until I get out of the sand.

This section is about 13 miles, it is shorter than any in the last 70.
It will be the approach to the La Sal Mountains,
The second serious climb of the race.
I heard it was snowing up there last night, so we will be required to carry cold weather gear.
It is hard to imagine being cold right now.
The ground is totally flat, running on an endless road.
I see the mountains rise at the edge of the horizon,
My feet will carry me there.
I’m alone now, no one in front of me or behind.
I begin to recite my favorite poem over and over, to keep me sane as I float along.

“If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream — and not make dreams your master;
If you can think — and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings — nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And — which is more — you’ll be a Man, my son!

The mountains loom now,
No longer small hills at the edge of my sight.
I come to a crossroads, but continue straight.
I run over a cattle gate, the sand and dirt becomes grass.
Grazing land with rolling hills, there are cows all around.
The wind has not died down this entire time.
There’s no sand blowing in my face now, but I am still getting beat up.
The sound is deafening.

Ahead I see objects move quickly across my line of sight.
I realize they are cars and trucks, it seems I am coming to a paved road.
When I finally get there, the course turns left, and I run alongside it.
Over another cattle gate.
I thought I was almost to the aid station, I thought maybe I could see it.
But I was wrong.
I see other runners far down the road, a hint to where I am headed.
The road seems to go forever, it looks like miles.
There is a giant rock formation to the left.
A mesa that rises abruptly from the flat plain.

I feel the wave I was riding earlier crash.
I stop and lower my hands to my knees, staring at my feet.
I am drained, demoralized and tired.
All of the sudden I feel like quitting.
I do not care anymore, I don’t care.
I don’t care if I lose all my self respect,
Or if I will not be able to look at myself in the mirror.
I do not care if everyone knows that I am not strong enough to do what I said I would.
It doesn’t matter.
I am not who I thought I was.
I hear these thoughts vocalized in my head, but it doesn’t sound like me.
And deep down I know this voice is a liar.
I know that I do care.
I know that I can push myself until I fucking die,
And if I quit I will look back,
And wish that I had.
I want to believe the voice telling me that it is okay to stop.
I want to believe, so badly, the excuse that I am not strong enough.
But I can’t.
So my hands come off my knees,
I look down this bullshit endless road,
And continue on.

Left turn after about two miles, into a campground.
The sun is starting to go down.
Running toward the tall cliffs I’ve been traveling alongside.
I glance up at the face of the rock and see something strange.
It looks like there’s a parking lot going up the steep incline.
Much too steep of a grade for cars to be parked on.
But I think I see a car, and is that a bus?
They’re almost vertical, that doesn’t make any sense.
My brain is so foggy at this point, I just brush it out of my mind.
I have to find the aid station.

Finally I arrive.
There is a giant stone firepit, with chairs all around.
Quite a few people here, I recognize some faces.
I lower myself into an empty chair and take off my shoes.
A volunteer comes up to see if I want food.
I eat a cheeseburger and some potato chips.
Then drink a cup of coffee.
I sit there quietly as people talk.
Everyone seems in decent spirits,
But I am still recovering from the moment of weakness that overcame me a short while ago.
I feel better as I eat.
I have my feet up on the edge of the fire, and realize that I don’t feel any heat.
I think my feet are numb,
I pull them down in case I’m accidentally roasting them.
Some time passes, people start to gather themselves and depart.
I feel like I should sleep but there are no cots set up here.
There will be at the next aid station, and my sleeping bag is there waiting for me.
It’s only 13 miles away, I can get there tonight.
Then I can sleep a couple hours and start the mountain climb in the morning.
This seems ideal,
I decide to send it.

I start getting myself together, and go to fill up on water.
I’m having trouble moving my fingers, and can’t get the lids screwed back on.
I struggle for a couple minutes before asking for help.
I’m really falling apart but it seems funny to me.
I have not slept in about sixty hours, this is uncharted territory.

I set out just as it starts to get dark,
And as I leave the campground, I am overwhelmed.
The pain, the sleep deprivation,
The urge to quit, the desire to continue,
Pride that I have come this far,
And fear that I will not have enough to give to get me to the end.
Everything is swirling around,
And I break down crying.
There are no tears but I’m sobbing, shaking violently.
And honestly, it feels good, just letting it all go.
And when I’m done, I keep on moving.
Everything is fine.

I have service here, I decide to call mom.
I don’t know why, I just need to hear her voice.
We talk while I run.
It is not a long conversation.
I’m sure it’s late there, and that I sound crazy,
My stupid ass not sleeping for almost three days.
But it makes me feel better.

I know I’m supposed to turn soon.
It seems like I should have already, but I didn’t see a marker.
In the state I’m in though, I don’t really trust myself.
I call Alec, someone to tell me where I’m at.
He thinks the turn is coming up, and there it is. All is well.
We talk for a while.
There’s no one around me, and hearing a voice keeps me alert.
I’m afraid I would fall asleep on my feet otherwise.

We hang up but he calls back soon after.
He thinks I’m off the trail.
I don’t see any markers but this is just a straight road,
I don’t know how I could have gotten off course.
Then I see headlights coming this way.
A car stops next to me.
The people inside tell me I’m going the wrong way.
There is a crossroad that people have been missing,
And they have been redirecting runners back to the trail.
I backtrack and sure enough, find the road that I missed.
Now I really don’t trust myself.

I decide to call Bry too when I get off the phone with Alec.
Might as well chat with the brothers while my phone is still working.
I’m on a dirt and gravel road that is very wide.
I’m starting to see things that I don’t think are really there.
I pass time describing them to my little brother.
It’s fun joking around with him.
I see rats running along the side of the road,
Then they just look like rocks.
But they’re moving. Then they’re not.
I don’t know.
Eventually we say goodbye, I want to put my head down and crank out these miles.
I’ve been awake for almost three days.

Things are getting weird.
I see stuff in my peripheral vision that doesn’t make sense,
And I’m not able to focus my eyes.
I’m in the middle of the desert, but it looks like I am running through a massive scrap yard.
I see twisted metal and beat up cars.
Everything shimmers and moves.
Things appear and disappear.
I try to just stare at the trail ahead of me.

I’m not sure when it happens exactly,
But at some point I slip away from reality.
I’m no longer running an ultra marathon in Utah.
I’m going to someone’s house,
There’s a cocktail party or something, I think for work.
There should be a bridge up ahead,
And probably security will be there to check me in.
I can picture the place I’m going,
It’s a big house on a hill, in the woods.
There’s someone there I’m supposed to meet,
He must be important if he has security.
It has to be near now.

All of the sudden I see a car parked on the side of the road.
It’s a dark minivan.
Then I look around, and realize I’m in the middle of nowhere.
What the hell? Where am I?
I look down and see that I’m holding trekking poles.
And I have water bottles hanging from my chest.
Why?
I rack my brain, trying to figure out what is going on.
I remember something about a house or a party.
But that doesn’t make any sense based on what I’m wearing.
The ground is different too, I thought it was gravel before.
Now it’s red dirt.
I don’t like this, something is wrong.
Maybe this is a dream.
Maybe I’m lucid dreaming.
I bet I’m sleeping in my bed right now.
It is the only thing that makes sense.
If I lay down and go to sleep here, I will wake up in my room tomorrow morning.
I’m walking over to the side of the road when something pops into my mind.
I remember vaguely being on the phone with Alec.
I think I’ll call him, maybe he will know what is going on.

Alec: Hey
Me: Hey, uh do you, uh, know like where I’m at right now?
Alec: Do you need me to look you up on the tracker?
Me: Uh, like do you know what I’m doing out here? I’m, like, in the middle of nowhere. I’m confused.
Alec: Dude are asking me… Oh Jesus. You’re in Utah! Okay, what are you wearing right now? Is it cold? Will you be okay if you fall asleep?

All of a sudden I’m aware again, awake I guess.
I panic for a second.
Am I still on the trail?
How long was I out of my mind?
I continue moving, Alec says I only have a little way to go.
I am still seeing things, but I know they are hallucinations now.
I look back and see a couple lights bouncing toward me.
Good. People.
They are moving faster than me,
I expect them to pass at any moment.
But they never do.
I look back and there is nobody there.
Shit.
I don’t even know what’s real anymore.
I lose service again, and am back on my own.
I see a stop sign up ahead, it does not seem to be getting any closer.
I assume it isn’t real either.
But then it’s right next to me.
Crossing a road now, I think maybe this is real.
Trail dips down into a dry wash and then it vanishes.
I turn in a circle, trying to see where I am supposed to go.
There is a tent set up in front of me with a mattress next to it.
And a pot hanging over a fire pit.
I see a set of double doors built into the face of a rock behind me.
Then lights appear off to my left, and I move toward them.
But then they disappear.
Now the lights are behind me, back the way I came.
Or is that the way I came?
I’m totally disoriented and I just stand there.
Two people come jogging out of the darkness.
I motion for them to stop, and they do.
They haven’t disappeared yet.
I tell them I’m hallucinating, that I can’t find the aid station.
I’m not even sure these people are actually real.
They bring me with them.
In moments we arrive.
Cars and RVs are everywhere.
They take me to the people working the station, now I am sitting by the fire.
A lot of people here.
I feel a little better, eating another burger, talking with the others.
When I’m done I walk over to the sleeping tent set up a few feet away.
I set my alarm for two hours.
I’m asleep before I even lay down.

Someone shakes me awake.
My alarm is going off but I didn’t wake up.
Not surprised.
Everything hurts as I stand up.
Not surprised about that either.
I put all my stuff back on and step out of the tent.
It’s dark, but the morning is here.
I walk to the food tent and eat some pancakes.
I only slept a couple hours,
But the ordeal from the night before seems like forever ago.
I can barely even remember it.
It doesn’t matter, I made it here and now I’m leaving.
I walk through the camp to the start of the next section.
Everything looks different in the morning light.

I’m back on a paved road.
I start out walking, stiff from being off my feet for so long.
There is a left turn onto a gravel jeep road after about a mile.
The trail climbs slowly as I make way through the foothills of the La Sal mountains.
My body is loosening up now.
I feel better than anytime in the past twelve hours.
How much time could I have saved if I had not fallen apart last night?
My watch battery died while I was sleeping,
So it’s hard to tell exactly what mile I’m on, or how long I’ve been running.
Maybe it’s better that way.
This section passes easily, I spend most of it thinking about how I will attack the mountains.
I should be getting to the base of the climb around early afternoon.
I can get most of the ascent done before it’s dark.
I’ve heard this is the toughest section of the race, but I’m feeling good.
And when I’m over that mountain, there will only be forty miles left.
Then it’s basically done.

The course turns onto a flat dirt road, moving parallel to the mountain.
Eventually the trail turns toward it, and the incline becomes steeper.
The trail here is made up of large loose rocks which do not feel good on the feet.
The aid station is located on the southeast corner of the mountain range.
A volunteer meets me as I roll in.
He sits me in a chair, and brings me grilled cheese and a hotdog.
As I eat he gives me the rundown on the next section.
It’s about 16.5 miles with 5,400ft of climbing.
Elevation will be over 10,000ft, the highest of the race.
He tells me that I’m in a good spot with my time.
I should take my time here and get my feet looked at.
I head over to the med tent.
One of the women there recognizes me,
She is the nurse I saw on the mountain top two nights ago.
We chat while another lady takes off my shoes and works on my feet.
I tell her about the nightmare I went through last night.
It’s funny now.
She does her best to un-fuck my feet,
They are a mess but at this point it doesn’t matter.
I’m too close for anything to stop me.
When I get over this mountain,
I will have reached 200 miles.

My feet are cleaned, drained, and taped.
It is time to go.
I grab another couple of hotdogs for the road.
As I leave, the man that greeted me earlier hands me a little travel toothbrush.
It feels very nice to brush my teeth after over three days…

I’m back on the trail,
Immediately on a steep climb.
The trees here are aspens, my favorite.
Slender and perfectly straight,
With white bark and leaves of vibrant yellow.
The sun shines through and everything is tinted gold.
Of all the beauty I’ve seen in the past days, this is what I like best.
The climb becomes strenuous.
I’m at about 10,000 feet altitude, and starting to feel short of breath.
I pause occasionally.
Eventually the trail begins to flatten,
And I jog along a path that spans the south face of the mountain.
I had looked up at these heights as I made my approach the previous day.
I remember seeing this very mountain slowly materialize on the horizon.
It had seemed impossibly far away then,
But time went by and each footstep brought me slowly closer.
Now the future has become the present,
And the pain of yesterday is forgotten.
Even that which has not yet come, soon will be behind me.
All that exists is this moment,
And that too shall pass.

It’s getting darker now, and cold.
The trail climbs and descends, but it seems that I’m going down more than up.
I run with a woman for quite a while in this section, and lose track of time as we talk.
We are nearing the 200 mile mark,
I did not find this section as tough as I heard it was.
I struggled much more in earlier parts of the course.
There is a steep incline on a gravel road,
And then we arrive at the Geyser Pass Aid Station.
A large tent is set up with chairs and blankets,
And a space heater that provides warmth.
I have plenty of time to spare.
I decide to rest my legs before embarking on the last forty miles.

I feel for the first time the certainty that I will cross the finish line.
And so now, finally, I allow hope to reenter my consciousness.
I have kept it away since the beginning.
Earlier on it would have done me no good,
For it surely would have abandoned me.
But now I will let that hope pull me through to the end.
And the closer I get the stronger it will become.
I will use it now, but it did not rule me,
Only striving when it’s there, and giving up if it is not.

I leave the aid station after midnight,
And continue along the same gravel road.
Climbing again at the moment, but I know it will be downhill soon.
After about two miles,
The course turns left onto a trail,
Leaving the road behind,
Running downhill through the woods.
There are a decent number of people,
And I yo-yo back and forth, seeing many familiar faces.
I’m on a paved road for a second, then back to the trail, climbing again.
When the climb ends, I find myself on gravel.
It’s open here, no longer in the woods.

I’m alone, it seems everyone has spread out.
To my left there is a shallow drop from the road,
And a large field that stretches out past where my light can reach.
As I glance out over it,
I see two large black lumps a couple hundred feet from me.
One of them moves.
It’s an animal, bigger than a cow.
It raises its head, looks like a bear.
Shit.
I start walking backwards,
Praying that it stays laying down.
I see it’s eyes reflecting my light.
It doesn’t move.
When it’s far enough away, I turn back around and keep running.
I guess a faceoff with a bear is not in the cards tonight.
Fine with me.
It was probably just a cow anyway.

I move through the darkest part of the night.
I’ve seen no one for a long time.
And as I run, I imagine my brothers being here with me.
I am in between, with them on either side.
I glance to my right and see Alec turn to face me.
Our eyes meet.
He looks at me quizzically for a second, as if wondering whether I am strong enough.
Then he smirks and nods his head, and turns away again, facing forward.
On my left, I feel Bryant pull me to himself in a half hug, and gently shake my shoulder.
He lowers his head and whispers in my ear, and I can hear his voice.
Though I only imagine this, it feels more real than any hallucination.

This is a long section, about 22 miles.
Eventually the gravel road starts to drop steadily downhill,
Winding back and forth.
Around eleven miles in, the course turns onto a paved road.
My mind is empty as run,
I’m starting to feel symptoms of sleep deprivation again.
I’ve only slept about two hours in the past 4 days.

The sky starts to brighten.
This is the last sunrise I will see out here.
By the time the sun sets again tonight,
I will be sleeping in a bed, inside.

A left turn off the road, over a cattle gate, and back onto dirt.
It’s mostly flat, slightly downhill.
This area is vast and open, I am no longer in the mountains.
I wish I could move faster here, but I can’t do more than a shuffle run.
It feels like my legs could just collapse with every step.
I will crawl if I have to,
But I would prefer a more dignified finish if possible.

The dirt becomes sand and the trail gradually rises,
The scenery changes yet again.
It seems more arid here and rocky.
Getting close to Moab.

The last aid station is at mile 223.
My feet are in bad shape by the time I arrive, I’m bleeding through my socks.
I sit down and start to work on them.
There is not a whole lot I can do really,
But I clean them off and drain some blisters.
Put on a pair of fresh socks, that will have to do.
I am dehydrated at this point and not able to eat anything.
It’s getting hot and the haze of exhaustion is starting to come over me again.
This is going to suck, but I have to start.
The finish line will not come to me.
And here we go again.

The trail immediately drops into a small gulch,
And then gradually rises over the next mile,
Until I come to the top of a ridgeline overlooking a massive canyon,
With rocks and mountains rising endlessly in the distance.
It is beautiful, but at this point I’m sick of it.
I just want it to be over.

I feel myself slipping again,
The way I had the night I was hallucinating.
The terrain is dry and rocky, the trail is fairly technical.
My eyes are not focusing, and I’m moving pretty slow.
I feel like shit.
I’m just holding on for dear life.
I know the end is near,
But it does not seem near enough.

I’m starting to see stuff again that isn’t real.
It is different in the daytime though.
Objects shift and change shape as I approach.
My brain starts to see things in the rocks and brush.
Then I see a mini refrigerator on the side of the trail,
It has a Coca-Cola logo on the door.
For some reason that does not even phase me.
I walk over to get a bottle of soda, that sounds really good.
Then I realize suddenly that there is nothing there.
Jesus dude, get it together.
I’m pissed off at this point.
I still have like 10 miles to go,
And my body is falling apart,
As if it’s trying to cut out early, though the job is not done.
I guess I have service again,
My phone is buzzing.
Have a text from Alec telling me to sack up and finish it.
He’s right, it hurts bad but who cares.
I’m just going to run, fuck my legs if they cannot handle it.
And my brain can hallucinate all it wants, I’m just going to run.
I’m flying now, running angry.
I’m not sure how I don’t fall or trip on a rock,
I’m barely paying attention to the ground beneath me.
My feet and legs may never forgive me for what I am doing to them now,
But I do not care.
Eventually I slow down,
Now with only 4 miles left.
Still hallucinating.
I see medals hanging from the bushes around me.
Then I notice that all the rocks on the ground have faces.
They stare up at me.
That’s kind of freaky.
Don’t love it.

The Colorado River appears in the canyon below,
And the trail goes along the canyon wall, slowly descending.
There are a lot of mountain bikers riding here.
It is pretty annoying with them zooming by,
Making me move out of their way.
People that ride bikes are soft,
Like they decided that running was too much work,
And they wanted to be able to sit down while they exercise.
Losers***.

[***Don’t actually have anything against bike riders, but I was in a bad mood, and I almost got run over like five times]

Finally this trail ends and I get spit out on a paved bike path.
Running along the Colorado River,
There are only about two miles to go.
All I have to do is put my head down and pump the arms,
Take me fucking home.
Running fast now, everything is a blur.
I did it. Fuck ya.
I see main street ahead, the same road I ran along 4 days ago,
On my way out of Moab.
I’m so close, not even a half mile.
I’m on main street now.
This is it.
I see the last turn up a head,
Couple hundred feet.
Running down, around a bend.
I’m in the chute.
There’s a bell ringing, I see the end.
When I cross that line I’m done.
When I cross the line I’m done.
Cross the line.
And now it’s behind me.
___________________

Crossing the finish line is anticlimactic.
I imagined for months prior, the feeling of euphoria that would be waiting for me.
Now, at the end, I realize that there is nothing here.
It is just over.
And I am no different than I was at the beginning.
I am not stronger, or better, or anything more than I ever was.
But I am stronger than I knew.
And I know now that the joy of this does not come at the end.
It existed in the middle, alongside the pain and suffering,
With every step taken beyond my falsely conceived limits, in the discovery that I still was not broken.