Ultra-Marathon
3:30AM
Alarm rings.
Awake.
Climbing out of bed
Running clothes spread out on the floor, battle armor.
Anti-chafe paste I rub on my chest, arms, and legs, war paint.
Trail shoes, double socks, calf sleeves, shorts, shirt, running vest.
A visor I bought the day before.
A headlamp for when it gets dark.
Gels, cubes, bars, salt tablets, Advil.
I dress feeling like an astronaut putting on his suit.
Heart races, sitting in a quiet half dark room.
Sipping coffee.
Eating, though I’m not hungry.
Any amount of food I could eat would be inadequate.
I savor the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
It will soon fade, I know.
Then it’s only me.
Can I make it?
Will I have crossed the finish line by the time I fall asleep tonight?
Or will I have fallen short?
Will it be my mind or body that fails me?
I decide to leave these questions for later.
But I know they will need to be answered.
Outside
Walking, silence but for my footsteps.
I listen to them tapping on the stone…
How many steps will I take today?
People ahead.
Silhouettes, lit up by the glow of headlamps.
I walk into the throng, one of them now.
A crowd. Quiet, whispering, waiting.
I feel conflicting emotions swirling around me.
Relaxed tension, hopeful dread, confident self-doubt.
A voice rings out over a loudspeaker.
People move forward, then stop.
Thoughts racing.
“You can’t do this.”
“You’re not ready”
“Imposter.”
“Fraud.”
“Failure.”
“Start!!!”
I begin to run, the same way I would any other day.
But this is different.
There will be no end.
Or no end worth thinking about now.
Just run.
Glancing at my watch.
5k.
Now do that nineteen more times.
1/20th, 5%, .05,…
I pass time thinking of ways to account for the distance covered
And the distance left to go.
I must stretch out each thought,
And make them last as long as I can.
It will keep me sane.
“Checkpoint in 200m”,
Says the sign.
Tables loaded with food:
Chocolate, potato chips, sausage, muffins, pretzels, protein bars.
Some go in my mouth,
Some go in my pockets.
Then I continue on.
Toward the next pit stop.
Flat, run.
Hill, walk.
Check watch.
Drink.
Run. Eat. Run.
Time passes, scenery changes.
Forest, field, forest,
Dirt road, paved road, no road.
Drink. Eat.
Onward.
I look at my wrist.
Thirty kilometers done.
Seventy kilometers left.
Doubt creeps in,
But I push it out.
Too early for that.
The trail displays on my GPS watch.
It tells me the elevation spikes ahead.
The road winds over rolling hills.
I can’t see where it leads.
There are mountains all around us.
Which of these am I about to climb?
A question soon answered.
A single file line forms.
A column of ants climbing a hill.
Up and up and up.
We will never reach the top.
But we do.
There’s a checkpoint.
I sprawl out on the grass
With a handful of pretzels and a RedBull.
The view is beautiful,
But I don’t enjoy it.
It’s just a mirage, this is Hell.
Time to move.
Down.
Worse than going up.
Each step is jarring.
Down, Down, Down.
We will never reach the bottom.
But we do.
The gravel trail becomes paved.
A huge lake appears,
And we run alongside it.
The other side is visible in the distance.
A gentle slope from the water’s edge
Becomes the steep wall of another mountain.
My feet ache.
But I can’t waste this stretch of flat road.
I pump my arms,
And feel my legs moving faster.
The path begins to curve,
Following the edge of the lake.
We enter a small village.
People call out to the runners,
Cheering them, pushing us on.
I hear my name.
Pulled from a state of semi-consciousness,
I have been floating along
Disconnected from my body.
It’s just a woman who read the name on my bib.
She says I’m doing great.
I feel inclined to disagree
But I try to smile.
Another checkpoint.
Next to the beach.
People lounge and swim.
How much I want to join them,
But I know this is not the finish line.
It won’t be long until this moment
Is a distant memory.
And it’s better not to dwell,
In a place I cannot stay.
I fill my water bottles
And return to the trail.
Toward another mountain.
This one bigger than the last.
A cable car carries tourists to the top.
But I am not a tourist.
I must carry myself.
My breath catches.
I feel my eyes begin to water.
But I don’t cry.
I laugh.
Not in the way one laughs
At something funny.
A laugh of disbelief.
At how far I’ve come,
At how far I’ve still to go.
And at this stupid fucking mountain,
Standing in my way.
I’m running at a full clip now,
Approaching the first incline.
Laughing hysterically.
I’m crazy.
I just ran 40 miles.
About to climb a mountain,
And then run 30 more.
That doesn’t even seem possible.
But I’m doing it.
I’m going to do it.
The mountain grows taller as I climb.
I remember thinking a long time ago
That I could not go much further.
Now I wonder if I couldn’t go on forever.
The incline steepens.
Weaving our way up a trail of switchbacks.
I swear I can see the summit now.
The last turn of the final stretch.
My legs are weak, my muscles burn.
It seems like hours ago
That I was at the bottom.
I make my way to a large cross
That marks the peak.
A bench appears next to the path.
It’s large enough that I could stretch my legs
And doze off looking out over the Austrian Alps.
This fantasy begins to materialize in my mind.
I’m tempted to stop,
But I don’t.
Fuck you bench.
Going down takes longer than coming up.
We do not run straight down,
But across the peaks of smaller surrounding mountains.
The sun is getting low in the sky.
No longer able to focus on my surroundings.
Only on my feet,
I must keep them moving.
I feel a part of my will crumble.
A piece of me, trying to find an exit ramp.
An excuse to go back to the lake
And fall into the clear, cool water.
I’ve been able to keep these thoughts away.
But the walls have been breached,
I feel a sense of panic.
My weakness angers me.
But it’s useful.
Reaching the finish line is not certain.
I must forget what I’ve endured,
And embrace the pain that’s still to come.
This pain isn’t real after all.
Just my body, filling my brain with lies.
Lies that I can’t continue,
Lies that I need to stop.
Lies that I’ve been listening to
For the past three hours.
But here I am still moving.
And three hours from now,
looking back at this moment,
I will laugh at myself
For thinking this could have been my limit.
Time passes.
I have given up all hope of finishing.
I still have many miles to go.
The logical part of my brain tells me this is impossible.
And I know it’s right.
But I hear another voice.
Every time I take a step,
“Again.” “Again.” “Again.”
I cannot make it.
But I will not quit.
The finish line is no longer
My goal.
Only to continue moving.
Never to stop.
Step by step,
Second by second.
I hurt worse than I could have imagined.
But I bet the pain of quitting
Would hurt worse than I now imagine too.
Please don’t let me find out.
A group of us were running together.
Now I am alone.
I don’t remember
If it was them or me who fell behind.
The rain has stopped,
But it was a deluge.
I am soaking wet.
But I’m afraid to change my socks.
My feet are so swollen,
I don’t think they would fit back in my shoes.
It doesn’t matter anyway.
My dry feet would be in agony too.
Better not risk stopping,
Could I start again if I did?
No longer alone.
There are three of us now.
We don’t speak much.
Too busy fighting off demons,
Under siege by our own thoughts.
They attack us like waves in the ocean.
Dark thoughts rolling toward us.
Slowly, but I can see them coming,
That makes it worse.
Until they tower over me.
And when they finally crash
I feel like I’m being pulled underwater.
Drowning.
No one is making us do this.
No one cares if I quit.
No one cares if I cross the finish line.
Just me.
Is that enough?
Why do you even care?
Just stop.
You don’t have to keep moving.
It hurts so bad.
You can stop. Just stop.
But like a wave, these thoughts recede.
Only the other voice remains.
“Again.”
“Another step.”
It’s dark now.
Easy to climb mountains
When you can’t see how far you are from the top.
Everything is black except
The ground sliding underneath my shoes.
It’s the only clue that I’m moving,
I know I’m going to finish now.
But knowing this means nothing.
I’m tired and I feel broken.
I stopped caring about the finish line a while ago.
I thought I would feel elated
But I have no emotions at all.
No pride, no relief. nothing.
There’s a light ahead.
Small but growing bigger.
A sign that says this is the last checkpoint.
The end is 5k away.
A few others have stopped here.
They look like zombies,
Hunched and hobbling.
I force myself to drink something.
I don’t want to continue.
I want it to be done.
But my legs have taken control.
And I am carried unwillingly
Back into the dark.
Ninety Five kilometers done,
5k still to go.
95%, .95, 19/20.
How far I’ve come,
How little left to go.
But it seems to take forever.
I think the finish line is around the corner.
But there’s just another hill.
I yell out in frustration,
Then begin to climb.
This hill is not a mountain,
But it could be just as well.
I can no longer tell the difference
Between 20 minutes or 2 hours.
10 feet might as well be a mile.
At the bottom of the otherside,
I recognize where I’m at.
Back in the town where it started.
I was on this road already.
It’s been less than a day,
But it seems so long ago.
People are directing me where to go now.
Around this corner, through that alley.
Returning to civilization.
I’m among normal people now,
Just going about their days.
Probably coming from a restaurant,
Or going for an evening stroll.
Some of them look at me as I pass,
Others don’t.
None of them know what I’ve done,
None of them care what I did.
Only me.
And that is enough.
I emerge into a square.
The finish line is just around the bend.
I hear someone call my name.
Once again, I am pulled from half sleep.
This time the woman is my Mom.
The finish line is right there,
100 feet away.
And now it’s behind me.
Finished.
Someone puts a medal around my neck.
Someone else takes a picture.
I walk out of the corral
And lower myself to the ground.
I think I’ll lay here forever…
But I don’t.
