The alarm rang at 6 AM. Both Chad and I looked up, saw it was still dark and went back to sleep. I rationalized that we would be in a lot better shape if we got two hours of sleep and it was light out.

Chad let the car run so the heater would give us some comfort. I remember thinking that his car must have a good battery to let it run for so long. But I was appreciative. I was surprised that I did not have trouble sleeping in my current state. Smelling like death, feeling dirty, legs on fire, chaffed hot spots screaming and sitting in a car seat that could be used in some sort of Medieval dungeon. But sleep came over me quickly.

My alarm was set for 6:15 AM, an hour after we stopped. But when my alarm went off, both Chad and I looked around. It was still dark and cold. We looked at each other and, as if through some sort of paranormal communication, both agreed it was not time to wake up. We went back to sleep for another forty-five minutes.

There was no alarm. I woke up. The sun was not up but there was the early morning light. Chad must have felt me moving because he woke up also. We looked at each other and decided it was time to get up.

The early morning light did not remove the bone chilling cold of the night. It was cold. Really cold. Our legs hurt, we were tired, we were dirty and we were only on mile 83. This sucked. Neither of us was feeling very positive. We decided to walk the next two miles. We talked and tried to say positive things, but our slow pace was not working for me. When I tried to jog, my legs protested. Walking was the only thing I could do.

Chad was in worse shape. He was experiencing knee problems. He was also going into a dark place. I believe the scientific term is “his mind was fucking with him”. I was trying to be positive. Trying to convince him that things would get better. At mile 85, I started to jog and power walk. I wanted to finish. Our slow pace was not working for me. I had calculated that we would not finish till about 2 PM. I wanted to speed up. But he would not. I tried to convince him that he needed to be mentally stronger, fight through the negativity. But he was done. At that point, I left him. I was caught between my conscience and my own survival.  I really did not think he was going to finish the race. I chose me.

I started to power walk and jog short distances. My entire body felt spent. I ached everywhere. But I moved as fast as I could.

At mile 90, I met up with Rajeev. Now, Rajeev was a Facebook friend. I barely knew him. But he was so upbeat and kept me happy. We were soon joined by Anu, another Facebook friend. She was so energetic and cute. They were running. I wanted to hang with them, so I ran with them. We went for four miles.. But the pain and exhaustion came back. I finally told them to move on. I started walking. I had less than a 10K left. There was no way I was not finishing.

At mile 96, I was at a crawl. I could no longer power walk. My hands and feet were swollen.  I had stopped taking in water and salt. I was in such a hurry to finish, I did not pay attention to the time. I took in a salt pill and drank twenty ounces of water. I was hoping this would help. I was hoping my kidneys could hang in there.

At mile 97, Rajeev passed me. I tried to siphon some of the energy I gained from him just a few miles before, but my legs did not respond. Upset that I could not move, I stopped and put my hands on my knees. My legs screamed, my arms and chest ached from the constants movement. I was a mess.

“Get your hands off your knees and walk. Hands on your knees means you are surrendering!”

I looked up. Rajeev was looking at me, a stern expression was on his face.

“”I’m fine,” I lied. “I’ll finish.”

With that I pushed on. The last three miles would be at a slow walk.

And slow they were. I did not stop. When I passed the starting point at mile 98, I know that I was going to finish. I also did not have the stress of time to worry about. I was already passed thirty hours. Now it was just time to finish.

I don’t remember the last lap. I remember trying to finish the race with a jog but couldn’t do it. I crossed the makeshift finish line and was just glad I did not need to go another lap. I don’t remember getting my buckle, don’t remember shaking hands with the people congratulating me. I don’t remember how my chair got into my dad’s car.

I just know I was happy. Not in the way that I have read about in all the articles from people who completed their first 100. I was not content. I was just happy to be able to say I have done it.

When someone asks me what it’s like to run such a long distance, I say it must be like a woman who just has a baby. It’s long and it is painful beyond anything imaginable. But, a couple of days later, you want another. I was looking for my next race four days later.