I felt good. Way too good. I left Chad and Joe. It was mile 54.

I decided it was time to change my socks. I had been running in them all day and my feet felt fine. Well, that’s not exactly the truth. My feet hurt and were swollen and I was afraid to see what my feet looked like when my shoes and socks were off. That’s half the reason I didn’t change them earlier. As expected, I found a doozy of a blister on the second toe of my right foot. It didn’t hurt but I feared it would. I lanced it, put some band aids on it and slipped on a new pair of socks. The blister never gave me problems but I never took my socks and shoes off again. I figured what I didn’t know wouldn’t hurt me.

But the big problem I was having was chaffing. I was having huge problems in between my thighs and between my butt cheeks. It was very uncomfortable. I had a stick of lubricant called Body Glide that I rubbed in the effected areas. I was wearing underwear that was made of material that did not absorb sweat and helped avoid chaffing. They were very comfortable and helped, but the sheer distance made chaffing inevitable. I knew that I was bleeding but did not change simply because I did not think it would help and I did not want to see what condition I was really in. So far I learned that every time I took off and looked at the condition of a body part it ended up worse than I thought it would be. I decided I didn’t need anymore bad news.

When finished my maintenance, I moved on. After my normal quarter mile walk at the start of the next lap, I started running once again. It was dark and getting cold. But I was still in a good place. I felt comfortable and my pace was brisk. I had decided to move and not stop until mile 70.

Now, mile 70 was an important milestone. It meant that I had less than 30 miles to the finish. Less than a 50K. Thirty miles should be a slam dunk. I had run thirty miles three time the month before for training. For me, having only thirty miles left meant that I would finish the race. Problem with my thinking was that I had not run 70 miles before running 30 miles in my training. That would occur to me later.

The next 16 miles were comfortable and uneventful. My running high leveled off at mile 65 but I was able to continue running. The big problem was the weather. It was becoming cold and the air was moist. What was worse, I was not prepared. My gloves were too thin, I did not have a skull cap, I did not have a thick jacket nor did I have pants. I had to make due.

I grabbed a pair of gloves from my father’s car and wore them with the pair I had. My father went out and bought the ugliest ski cap I had ever seen. But it had fur and ear flaps, so I wore it and was appreciative (even though I knew my dad got it as a joke). I took my casual day-to-day jacket and put it on over my running windbreaker. I think I would have worn my jeans if I had them available. But with all this, it was still cold. But I moved on and tried to ignore it.

I passed mile 70 at about two in the morning. Though I was suffering, I was still feeling pretty strong and felt, for the first time, that I would finish. Now my goal was to get to mile 80 so that I only had 10 miles to get to mile 90 which would leave me only 10 miles to the finish.

Now things get REALLY interesting. I started to hit that valley I was expecting at mile 76. I was still running but was beginning to suffer. It was about three in the morning. My mind felt swollen and I was beginning to close my eyes for a few steps to take mini naps without actually falling asleep. I did not stop at the end of a lap because I thought I would not start up again. But that was not the worst of it.

When walking up the path to start the 77th mile, I was passing the tents and tables for the other runners. And that’s when my first hallucination occurred. A table on the side of the path started to bend across the path. It looked like a worm trying to change its direction. I stopped and just stared at it, watching it creep across the path. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I changed the angle of my head to see if it was actually in the middle of the path. As if I had frightened it, the table creeped back into its original position. I let out a little giggle. I knew what had happened and that I was experiencing what all 100 milers had experienced at one time or another. I actually felt like I had finally joined the ultra runner brotherhood. All I needed to do to be a full member was puke and finish the race.

The next 5 miles were filled with interesting sites. Trees turned into canaries, runner ahead of me looked like marionettes, the weeds started scurrying away from my shoes and a line of palm trees turned toward me and bowed.

I was tripping. But I used this to keep my mind busy and away from the exhaustion and pain. But it only lasted for so long.

In the dark, the path seemed to be longer and I could not gauge where I was. The cold was brutal. I found out later that it got down to twenty-six degrees. The air was moist. Everything was wet. Even sitting on my chair was uncomfortable. The trail was almost abandoned. Most of the hundred milers turned in for some sleep, knowing that the 24-hour goal was unattainable (I was too dumb to realize I wouldn’t make it). The only people on the trail were Chad, me and a few who barely seemed to be able to walk. We saw several people who were tripping over themselves. When asked if he was alright, a man barely able to walk told me he had fallen asleep on his feet and was half a mile from last he remembered. He was an animal. He said he was fine and we passed him up.

At mile 80, I told Chad I was done. I needed sleep. I wanted him to give me his keys and I would sleep in his car. He said he was going to to keep going. That lasted until mile 81. He told me he was also done.

At mile 82, Chad and I went to his car and fell asleep. It was 5 AM.