I had planned most of this year to attempt Arkansas as my first 100 miler. I figured that if I could survive Bandera back in January, I could be ready by October for a 100 miler. I knew that I wouldn’t be ready for a mountain 100 and I wanted something a little more challenging than Rocky Raccoon. My training approach had been to skip the nice soft trails at Bastrop and to focus on more rugged terrain like Barton Creek Greenbelt’s Powerline loop, Rocky Hill Ranch, etc. The farthest I ever went was about 40 miles with Joe in the Guadalupe Mountains back in June. I did do at least one hot, hard 30 mile run each month from March through September. By the first of September, I felt like I was ready to go. The problem was that I still had a month to wait.

By the time October finally arrived, I had an enthusiastic crew comprised of Mike Riggs and Jim Lindquist. After raiding Joe and Joyce’s closets, I had more warm clothes and gear than I could ever use. Jim and I drove to Little Rock on Thursday and met up with Mike who had flown in that night. On Friday morning after a quick stop at a local grocery store, we headed for the Ouachita National Forest. We first stopped in at race headquarters where I weighed in (139#) and they tagged me on the wrist with my % weight loss numbers (hey, if I got down to 122# I would WANT them to pull me from the race!). I met Chrissy Ferguson, the race director and also said hello to the irascible Mickey Rollins, who was selling his music CDs and leftover Rocky Raccoon hats.

We were in Mike’s Ford Explorer Sport with 4 wheel drive and Mike offered to take us on a tour through the Park. Ostensibly this was to give me a perspective of the course layout, but I think Mike just wanted to do some off-pavement wheeling through the woods. It was a bit drizzly and cool, but we had a blast. We must have scared up about a dozen different flocks of wild turkeys (the feathered variety) as we toured the jeep roads that traversed the National Forest. We stopped at one scenic peak which gave a great long-distance view of Lake Winona and Smith Mountain which I would view from a much lower perspective the next day. The course winds around Lake Winona which is the 32 mile mark of the run and then heads up Smith mountain at about mile 42 or so. We also went out to the Powerline aid station site where we met the two aid station captains guys pulling up in an RV. We chatted for a bit and then headed out. We swung through the part of the course that would lead to Chile Pepper and Turnaround Aid Stations and then boogied down to Lake Winona. After a quick picnic in the drizzle at Winona, we headed back for the 2 p.m. race briefing back at race headquarters at Lake Sylvia.

At the race briefing we met up with Linda Hurd and Thorbjorn. After a short briefing which mostly seemed to center around watching out for black bears and hungry felines, we got directions to the Coffee Creek Landing from Paul Schmidt and went to check in. I had reserved a cabin a couple of months back at this place upon Joe’s recommendation. It is near Perryville which is a scant 10 miles from the Park. The place is an old fish camp that is gradually being remodeled. We found the proprietors down at the “Store” on the pier. After scrambling around for about 10 minutes to find the reservation book, they told us that we had no reservation! The place is under new management and apparently some folks that are no longer working there didn’t write down our reservation. Fortunately they had one room left.....with one bed.....for three guys. The owner arranged for two roll-a-way beds and after we put the table and chairs on the porch, we had room to sleep. After all of this trauma, we just had time to throw down our bags and race back to the Park for the pasta dinner at 4:00. We pigged out on spaghetti, bread and desserts and then headed back to the fish camp. We hung out on the porch and visited with the group from Hawaii. I made final preparations and sorted through my gear for the next day. We rolled out the beds and watched baseball until around 9:30.

I woke up at 3:30 the next morning and lay awake until Mike tried to check his watch. “Its 4:35" I said and Mike laughed. We got up and got ready to go. Thorbjorn wanted to leave at 5:00 and we opted to wait as long as we could (5:15). No sense in standing around in the cool weather. It was not too cool that morning when we got to the Park shortly after 5:30. I got my bib number and checked in. After a couple of last minute dashes to the Explorer for “necessary” items, I was ready to go. I had on a singlet and my Race Ready shorts and a running jacket. Mike had given me a 3 LED wrist light to use on the first part of the run. The gun went off shortly after a cry of “Go Team Texas” which brought boos and grumbles from the others. We headed down the paved road to the first jeep road. I saw Letha Cruthirds right after the start and wished her luck. We immediately started up a pretty good hill on the main paved road and virtually everyone started walking. Even though it was probably only about 20 minutes or so, it seemed to take forever to get to the jeep road. In fact by the time we all turned onto park road 805, you almost didn’t need your light any more. I rolled up and down this road for awhile. I visited with a few runners as we ambled along, including John from Knoxville. John had a Camelbak on and was race-walking. He had done a 100K in Maryland earlier in the year and was attempting his first 100 miler. He was pretty remarkable. He found a rhythm and just kept it, uphill, down hill or on the flat. I think he ended up finishing in just barely over 27 hours!

Joe had told me not to take any more advice from anyone, but I did ask Paul Schmidt a few questions on Friday evening. I was concerned about maintaining my weight and Paul had suggested to eat SOMETHING at each aid station. I had this in mind as I spotted the Brown’s Creek station at mile 5.2. These hardy souls had cooked bacon and pancakes for us! Well it was a bit early to be pigging out in a race, but after all the teasing my crew had done about enjoying a nice breakfast while I was out running, I couldn’t resist. I dipped a couple of pancakes and grabbed a piece of bacon for the road.

I was moving at a pretty good clip–walking the uphills and running the downs. There were a fair number of hills, but it wasn’t long before I reached the next aid station, Flatside Pinnacle. This station was right at the entrance to the Ouachita Trail. I didn’t spend any time at this station. I refilled my bottle and stepped down onto the trail. Joe (and others) had told me that this was the best section of the whole course. They were right. I felt right at home on this 8+ mile stretch of trail. It was cut right through the forest snaking along hillsides and plunging up and down hills. It was rocky with tricky footing. I loved it and blasted away on it. I ran with Mark Dick on the first part of this trail who yielded to me as we climbed an early rise. He said that Chrissy kept calling him Joe, thinking he was Joe Prusaitis. We laughed and agreed that they did share a mutual taste for beer and fun and had similar body builds. Mark let me scoot by and I headed down the other side. A group of four guys heard me pounding behind them and all courteously moved over for me to pass. I caught up with a woman who seemed also to be enjoying this section of the trail. We chatted for a bit and I followed her all the way down into a return visit to Brown’s Creek Aid Station. I didn’t linger over the pancakes this time, just stuffed one in and took off. The next section is a ½ + mile climb on a rocky section of the Ouachita Trail. It was quite a hike. Once it evened out again, I was back to dancing over the rocks and having fun.

As I cruised across one ridge, my foot caught a rock and down I went. The fall wasn’t bad as my hand bottle caught most of the impact. I dusted myself off and moved on. The course was marked at periodic points with mileage markers. I passed the 15 mile marker and was happy to see it. I was ahead of pace, but felt like I had not pushed myself too hard to get there. The temperature was good and it was overcast which seemed to help. Shortly after 15 miles; however, my left IT Band started acting up. I felt that telltale pain on the outside of my left knee. I was briefly befuddled by this. My left IT had not been any problem at all since right before Bandera in January. What the heck was going on? I ignored it for a bit and then remembered that I had a secret weapon in my med kit bag. I stepped off the trail and pulled out a cut-off knee high panty hose (which formerly belonged to Kathleen Schmidt, Paul’s wife) which had made me pain-free for Bandera. I took off again and still felt the pain, but decided to give it a while to start working. Then my right IT band started bothering me.

I ignored the twinges and kept going down into the Lake Sylvia Aid Station, the first crew aid station. My crew pulled me in and sat me down. I ripped off my singlet and got out my Race Ready half-sleeve shirt. I found that my bottle belt stays in place better when I wear that shirt. Mike re-pinned my number while Jim and Linda waited on me hand and foot. I decided not to take my Camelbak as I had planned and got an extra bottle to go in the belt I was wearing. So I had a hand bottle with gatorade and a belt bottle with water. I hosed myself down with water, dropped the jacket and headed out of the station in 15 minutes or less with a bag of pineapple chunks, a turkey sandwich and a baggy of ice under my hat.

The next section started with a gradual climb up one of the main roads of the Park. It wasn’t pavement, but it was darn hard. I hiked up this twisting, turning road, pretty much alone. This is a fairly long section before the aid station at Pumpkin Patch (5.7 miles). After a couple of miles, the course turns off the maintained road onto a washed out jeep road. While you theoretically could drive on parts of this section, I can’t imagine rattling your chassis on some of this. But the trees were tall and there was little sun, so life was good. I struck up a conversation with Gina from Missouri. She was in the Army and was using a method of running 3 minutes and then walking 2 minutes. She set her watch and did this religiously. We played cat and mouse for a bit, but as we finally came off of this rough section and back onto a maintained jeep road with a down hill, I left her behind. (I saw Gina later around mile 60, but I didn’t see her name on the finishers list).

It was getting warmer now as I spotted the Pumpkin Patch Aid Station (mile 22+). I refilled my bottles here and sampled some of the homemade pumpkin pie. After all Paul advised me to eat SOMETHING at each of the stations! It was delicious. I took out quickly from this stop and headed for the next stop. Still on maintained road I stuck with walking the hills and running the rest as best I could. I kept taking an e-cap every 30 minutes or so throughout the entire run. I stopped at the Electronic Tower Aid Station only long enough to fill my hand bottle with lovely green gatorade.

The section from E-Tower begins with a climb up the hill where you can actually see the Tower. This segment of the course is on road that is more trail than jeep road. This is a pretty section of trail as you are essentially running along a high ridge. There were quite a few rocks in the path, many of which were hidden in the grass. I’m jogging down one straight flat section when I pass a black limb on the left side of the trail on the ground. I stop right after and turn around. The limb is now slithering across the trail. It was a long, black, shiny snake about 4 feet long. I whip out my disposable camera and ease closer for a picture. He heads on off the trail so I figure I have done my good deed for the day by not leaving him to startle other unsuspecting runners. I played cat and mouse on this section with my reverse number (49), until we hit the down hill section to Rocky Gap. I blew past him and down into the Rocky Gap Aid Station. The sun is out now and the temp is going up. I have my “Aunt Jemima” do-rag going with my white Montrail hat keeping me cool. I am glad to get to Rocky Gap because I know it is only one more segment before Lake Winona, my ace crew and a quick chance to sit for a few minutes.

It doesn’t seem to take long until I come off the rougher road onto one of the main Park Roads. I start to recognize the road from Mike’s tour from the day before and soon see the lake through the trees. This puts some fire under my feet because I know I must be getting close. I cruise up and down a rolling road and soon come up on the Ranger Station and picnic area. I think to myself, “cool, it is right down at the bottom of this hill”. I blast down the hill expecting at any moment to see Jim or Mike waving me in to a comfy chair. Wrong! I forgot that Joe warned me not to be fooled. The Aid Station is around the levee and back on the other side. I forgot. I trudge down along the back side of the Lake wondering where the hell the Aid Station is. I hear the water rushing in a stream on the other side of the spillway and give serious thought to dropping my aching feet and Achilles into the water.

I press on and FINALLY amble up a hill into the Winona Station around 1:10 p.m., just slightly over 7 hours from the start. My time so far is right where I want to be. I check in with the officials and plop down into a chair as they hand me my drop bag. My crew hovers around me with the precision of an Indy pit crew. Linda offers me a plate of sliced avocado while I begin to patch up a couple of fledgling blisters. A fresh pair of socks feels good to my aching feet. I decide to go with a Camelbak for this next section so the crew gets that ready while I linger and lick my wounds. Chrissy Ferguson, the race director comes by and comments on how “attractive” my do-rag is. I tell her that it is important to look good and run good. She smiles and says “With the way you look, you better concentrate on running good.” We both laugh and Mike gets out the Ass Launcher and hoists me out of the chair. I attend to a chafing problem while Mike grabs me a sandwich and more pineapple to walk out with. He is pressing me to keep moving and he is right. I didn’t think I wasted any time, but it still took me almost 20 minutes to get out of Winona.

I trudge up the hill on the road toward Pigtrail. This section seems like it is almost all well-maintained road that dips and rises with the land. Big tall hardwoods and some pines line the road here. You can see occasional cleared areas and even a few deer or turkey hunting stands. I get back into power walking mode here as the stretches of road tend to be mostly uphill. “This should be nice coming back in the morning” I say to myself. Suddenly I drop down a short hill and into the Pigtrail Aid Station. I don’t stay here long. Just refill the bottles and go. Club Flamingo is up next and it is only 2.9 miles away. There is a drop bag waiting for me there.

The jeep road out of Pigtrail is not really a road any more. It is nasty, rocky and rough. It reminded me a lot of Bull Creek only rockier. This was a steep section that demanded your attention. I climbed the hills and walked along. I caught up with Hans Dieter and his posse of runners, Jean-Jaques and Susan. We go back and forth for awhile until (you guessed it) the trail begins to wind into a downward grade. The good folks at Club Flamingo have put encouraging signs up out on the trail which stokes me even more. When we come to a final down hill stretch, I call back to Dieter’s group: “ Come on. We can’t pass this up!” and plummet at a dead run down the hill. Down I go and soon spot the Aid Station. The place is jumping with activity. The volunteers swoop in and bring me my bag and a chair. Thorbjorn is there and parked in a chair. He doesn’t look so good and says that he is having stomach problems. I’m feeling pretty good despite my various IT and Achilles pain. One woman grabs my Camelbak and refills it with water. Unfortunately she doesn’t give me back the empty hand bottle that I was carrying on the strap in case I decided to ditch the Camelbak here. I don’t notice it and saddle up quickly. The volunteers are great at this station and soon shoo me off urging me to “come back tonight and stay awhile”. The return trip to Flamingo is at mile 76+ so their logic was sound.

Thorbjorn pulls himself together and goes out with me. We start slowly as I am munching on yet another turkey sandwich. We march up a couple of hills and come to a high point in the terrain. I ask Thorbjorn to take my picture and I take one of him. We are set to launch down a hill and he tells me to go on. His stomach is still troubling him. I wish him well and shuffle off down the hill. I really want to make Powerline before dark. I know that Mickey’s aid station is coming up soon. With my Camelbak on, I won’t have to drink any of his water or gatorade. I seem to be doing pretty well at this point...and it is only 3+ miles to Mickey’s. My feet are hurting at this point and I am starting to think about the spare pair of shoes I have at Powerline. I pull into Mickey’s and promptly ask him to rub my feet. Mickey grumbles something rude and I push the point. “Isn’t this an AID station?” I ask loudly. Mickey says he can’t help with my f***ing personal problems, but he does offer me a swig of his Shiner Blonde Beer. I’m so sick of green gatorade that I take a couple of big swigs. It tastes pretty darn good. I skip the other liquids, but pick up one chip off the table. It is stale as can be. I should have known better. I holler “Thanks” and head up the hill on the jeep road.

Shortly after getting up the hill there is a left turn off the road onto an “abandoned” jeep road. This is really just a wide trail that is very odd. I hike through tall grass until I come to the first of a seemingly endless number of small humps in the trail. These berms stretched across the width of the trail so there was no walking around them. They came at a sharp enough angle that you had to be careful going up and over them. I pushed on and started the ascent up Smith Mountain, the highest point on the course. The humps appeared at random distances along virtually the entire trail up the Mountain. I trudged and marched and hiked up this trail. It went up and up and up. I thought I would NEVER get to the top! I stopped briefly at the top to admire the view, but quickly pushed on as a group of runners that I had been running close to off and on during the day were also approaching the summit. I was so glad to be off the upward climb that I took off at a fast run down the other side. This was a nice long descent which I recall thinking would be a bitch to get up later that evening in the dark. I hit the Chicken Gap Aid Station on the other side of Smith Mountain, but I can smell Powerline at this point which is only 2 miles away. I stop for a quick shot of Coke and push on.

I’m running with a couple of other folks now, including Jamie from Fayetteville, Ark. who I have seen off and on most of the day. We come out into the power line right of way and point out the Aid Station nearly 2 miles off. So near, yet so far. The sight is enough to get me stoked again so I amble off down the trail. It is almost 5 p.m. now and as we start down the last downhill before hitting the last jeep road to Powerline, I see the lead runner walking up this same hill. I give him a cheer and run down the hill. I pass the other couple of folks who I have been running with recently and my momentum keeps me running on the flat road. I can feel Powerline pulling me up the hilly final mile.

At 5:30 I see the crew cars parked along the road and spot Mike’s red Explorer. I check in first at the weigh-in and find that my weight is still the same as when I started. Following Paul’s advice to eat a little at each Aid Station seemed to have worked! My crack crew pulls me over to a chair right on the main drag and start their good work. Jim is all suited up with his Camelbak and seems raring to go. I change my socks and shoes which feels great. I tell Linda about Thorbjorn and where I left him. Mike works to try to get me fixed up, but also to get me moving out as soon as possible. I’m a little light-headed and know I need to eat and drink before I take off so I delay a bit. Linda gets me soup and cold water which I suck down. I worry over whether to change clothes. I expected to need warm clothes at this point, but it is still quite warm. I finally decide to wear the vest that Joyce loaned me and tie a warm long-sleeve shirt around my waist in case the temp drops unexpectedly. Mike is finally able to get me out of the chair (he has to use the Ass Launcher again) and I walk out with a sandwich and some fruit at 6:00.

Jim and I head up the well-groomed jeep road and I try to eat something. We don’t get too far down the road before I need to make a pit stop in the woods. After that I feel much better and we shuffle off down the road as the light fades. The weather stays warm and I keep the vest unzipped. I’ve ditched the Camelbak at Powerline as it was really bothering my bum left shoulder. I carry a bottle belt and a handbottle along with my 7 LED hand held light. It lights up the road so well that Jim’s 3 LED light is swallowed up by my green Glo-Bug. Jim starts to run through his joke repertoire. I am struggling at this point......my feet ache, my muscles hurt. Under most circumstances the jokes would be funny, but I don’t have the energy to pay attention to them. I finally tell Jim that all I want is for him to be there with me. Being a good pacer he let’s me boss him around and does what I ask. We have a total of 4 miles to Chile Pepper Aid Station which is one of the premier stops along the way. We jog some of the downhills and walk the ups. I’m amazed at the number of runners coming back the other way without any lights, including Paul Schmidt. But when I turn my light off, I see that the road is fairly smooth and you can clearly see the track where the car tires have smoothed the center. As prone as I am to kicking rocks, I’m still too chicken to go without a light. An hour or so out of Powerline, we come to Chile Pepper. This place is rocking! The volunteers cheer as we pull up and leap into action. Our bottles are filled and the solicitous crew here hover over us. It is tempting to stay, since they offer us black bean or chicken burritos, but I know that we need to push forward. I decide to get a burrito on the way back and lead Jim out toward Turnaround.

This is a tough part of the course. It is 5.8 miles from Chile Pepper to Turnaround, one of the longest stretches between Aid Stations on the whole course. It is dark now and the road is lined with tall trees so there is nothing to break the monotony. It is even hard tell whether the road is sloping up or down. We walk on and Jim tries to get me to run more, but my body is hurting and it feels okay to walk. We see more and more runners headed back the other way and finally trudge up the last hill to the Turnaround Aid Station. Mike is there and I quickly grab a seat. I find Joyce, the Station captain and ask her for a beer per Joe’s instructions. She laughs because Mike has already handed her one so I end up with a can of Bud. I take a couple of sips and then go for some soup. Thorbjorn comes in with Linda while I am still sitting down. He still doesn’t look too good. I know that the hardest part is left (it is mostly uphill back to Powerline) so I don’t hang around here long. By 9:15 Jim and I are on are way down the hill.

I’m 59 miles into it and starting to fade a bit. Jim continues to urge me on to run, but my legs just won’t respond. More and more runners catch up and pass us as we make our way back toward Chile Pepper. We walk most of the way and finally arrive at the Aid Station. We are greeted enthusiastically by the volunteers. One of the volunteers who helped me at our first time through sits me down in a chair and asks brightly how I’m doing. Her cheerfulness is contagious. They are out of chicken burritos (which tells me that I am starting to lag behind) so I have a little soup and I’m ready to go quickly. I think Jim wants to stay as they tend to him like he has run 63+ miles, too! For me every step is now a personal best long distance. I know that I am falling behind now, but I just can’t get my body to work any harder.

It seems to take forever to get back to Powerline, but we finally arrive at around 12:45 a.m. This is a critical point. Everyone has told me that it is essential to be able to leave Powerline after coming back from Turnaround. This is usually the place where most people drop (if they are going to drop). I’m over an hour ahead of the cut-off, but slowing down. I weigh in and I’m only down to 137 so I’m good to go. Mike is ready to go, but I have to fix a chafing problem before I can go. I debate whether to switch to tights. It isn’t that much cooler, but it is starting to spit rain a little. I finally decide that maybe the extra compression from the tights might help my sore legs and head to the Port-A-Potty to change. The Potty is up on a trailer and it is an effort to step up to get to it. I realize that I still have my shoes on when I get inside. I bang around trying to take off my shoes, strip, get dressed and fix myself up. It feels like I am taking forever. Mike calls to me a couple of times to make sure I am okay. I have made it almost 2/3 of the way, but I can tell it is going to be a long 50K to the finish. Mike pushes me to get out of there, but he needn’t have worried. There was no doubt that I was going to give it a shot from Powerline once I get there in one piece.

Off we go with Mike loaded down with everything that I should need to make it through. The only thing that I will later regret forgetting was a Walkman cassette player with a couple of tapes that I made to pump me up. I could have used them later to wake me up. Mike urges me on as we head down the hill from Powerline. I still can’t get my legs to run, but we stride on. It takes too long to get the 2 scant miles to Chicken Gap. I can tell that Mike is concerned about our pace, but I am really struggling up the hills and Smith Mountain looms next. He runs ahead to Chicken Gap to get our bottles filled so we won’t linger. At least they are no longer playing the obnoxious barnyard animals tape they were playing when I came through here in the afternoon.

We start the ascent up Smith Mountain. When we finally get to the top, we stop briefly and turn off our lights. I’m getting really tired now and want to stop and admire the darkness, but taskmaster Mike wisely pushes us on. It is around 2:30 a.m. now and I can’t stay awake. I drink a Red Bull, but it doesn’t seem to help. We are heading down Smith Mountain and confront those dreaded humps which now seem HUGE to my crying calves. We are taking too long and Mike knows it. He moves ahead to make me move a little faster. Just as the climb up seemed to last forever up Smith Mountain, so does the descent. We make it down to the flat section again and I think that the road must be right around the corner, but again it seems like I walk and walk and the trail continues on endlessly. It is starting to drizzle harder now as we come down to Mickey’s aid station. A quick bit of soup and we move on.

Club Flamingo is next about 3 miles down good jeep road. I manage to run a little bit on some of the down hill, but not much and not for long. I can’t stay awake no matter what I eat or drink. I try Gu, Red Bull, Coke—nothing seems to work. I stumble along barely able to keep my eyes open. It again takes too long to get to Flamingo and Mike and I talk briefly before getting to the Aid Station about whether I can keep going. We get to the Aid Station and I sit down and get another Red Bull out of my drop bag. I don’t want to get out of the chair after Mike gets refills. “You can’t drop here” he says as my ass weighs heavily in the chair. I look up at him dumbly, knowing that I can quit if I want to, but at this point I feel loathe to waste Mike’s efforts to keep me going and my own investment in having come 76+ miles. I know I am going too slow and there is no way that I can make Lake Winona by the final cut-off. He pulls me out of the chair and I stagger off with Mike at the helm.

The next section heads for Pigtrail Aid Station. This is only three miles, but is that nasty, rocky, rough segment that reminds me of Bull Creek’s tougher spots. I am clinging to a loop on Mike’s Camelbak now as I careen side to side on the trail unconsciously. I have to catch his shoulder a couple of times and he has to catch me occasionally as I stumble along. This seems crazy. I am barely awake as we go along. Then it starts to REALLY rain. Mike had already put his rain jacket on me, but with the latest development, he takes it off of me and whips out the watertight yellow slicker that Joyce P. loaned me. This rugged section is now slippery as well as rough and in my present mindless state, it is just plain treacherous. Mike refuses to be bowed. He keeps me upright as we slide down the trail. Then we lock arms to try to stabilize me as we go. It again takes an interminably long time to get to the Pigtrail Aid Station. The rain has started coming down even harder as we approach. As Mike says later, they look at us like we are aliens as we walk toward them. We check in and they tell us that there is still another runner out behind us. I don’t want to go on anymore, but again Mike says “we can’t stop HERE.”

We don’t hang around and start to walk up a hilly section. I am limping now as we negotiate this well-maintained jeep road. Lake Winona is the next station and the final cut-off. Mike assumes that the cut-off is 8:45, although I remember it being 7:45. At this point I am in no position to argue, because I don’t have much of a clue about anything. It is after 7:00 a.m. now and there is light in the sky even though it is still raining. Everyone says that if you can make it to light then you can make it home. Mike has been spurring me with this wisdom since 3 a.m. But it is actually true. I don’t know if it is biorhythmns or what, but for about 15 minutes, I feel awake again. We keep plodding on the road and then I start to fade again. I’m just too danged tired. Mike feeds me a Red Bull with a Gu chaser, but I’m still weaving badly. We pass the 80 mile marker and I still hold out hope that maybe I can pull it off. A truck comes by with a couple of volunteers at about 7:40. They stop to check on us and ask how we are doing. I shake my head and Mike asks them how far it is to Winona, not knowing that we have already missed the cut-off. They aren’t sure so Mike says “if it is more than 2 ½ miles, send someone to get us.” That tells you that we are down to about a 2 miles an hour pace.

We walk on for another 15 minutes and Mike has about decided that we are going to have to hoof it in to Winona. Then a mini-van drives over a crest in the road and I know that I’m done. When asked by Mike, Carlos, the driver, says “it’s a LONG way to Winona.”. I’m satisfied at this point that I have given it my best shot and happily crawl into the van after 82+ miles. They already have our Winona drop bags in there so we are able to change into dry warm clothes. We make one more stop and pick up another fallen runner. He is dressed in a cotton long-sleeve top and shorts. Richard from Illinois has run 52 marathons. He thought that this was a road run. It is amazing that he got as far as he did. We get back to the start/finish and I look a bit wistfully at some of the runners nearing the end, some of which I recognize from the journey. Jim is waiting for us after sleeping a few hours. We get out of the van and I can barely walk. It is a supreme effort to shuffle over to the Port-A-Potty. I get back in the Explorer and Linda Hurd appears with a plate full of eggs and pancakes (bless her). Thorbjorn quit at Turnaround so they have had a chance to clean up and rest. We go back to the Fish Camp and clean up. I am having a hard time moving at more than a crawl and can’t lift my leg up to get into the shower without using my arms to assist.

My body is pretty trashed, but my head is clear. Other than lingering a little too long at the Crew Aid Stations, I think I ran as good a race as I could under the conditions. My failure to finish certainly had nothing to do with my crew. I probably wouldn’t have gotten much past 70 miles without Mike Riggs urging me on and carrying me (literally, at times) as far as he could. Mike’s voice saying “keep moving” will be my new mantra in ultra races. I couldn’t have asked for a better crew chief/pacer. Jim Lindquist was a stalwart crew member who was always there when I needed something. Thanks also to Linda Hurd, my third crew member. It was great to have another experienced runner helping out.