Riffle Ford Aid Station, mile 42. A volunteer asked me if I needed anything. I tried to focus my mind enough to form sentences. “Could you… gatorade… please?”, as I pointed to the bottles strapped to my chest. I then proceeded to the table of snacks and downed some PB&J’s. When the same volunteer came back with my gatorade he looked at me and said "son your eyes are blood shot”. Hm. Did I pop a blood vessel? I told him I was fine. I was not fine. Apparently I slurred my words. He gave me a salt tablet and asked me to sit down. I ignored him. I felt focused. Eight miles to go. I was going to finish strong. The 2019 Stone Mill 50 was my first 50 mile ultramarathon. The only other ultra I had done prior was a 50 km road race in 2016. The longest training session I did for this race was a set of back-to-back long runs two weeks prior, 25 miles Saturday and 10 miles Sunday. I should've gotten a lot more time on trails. I also should've invested in trail gear. Nothing fancy, but at least trail shoes. I thought my road shoes would've been fine but about thirty minutes into the race I realized how valuable proper footwear would've been. It was a brisk twenty-two degrees at the start of the race. I kept up with the lead group for a little under an hour. Big mistake. I winded myself out, so I had to slow down. And for the first two hours of the race my feet/lower legs were swollen. I’m still not sure why this happened. My legs eventually evened out, but I had been running on numb legs. I couldn't gauge how damaged my feet were from all the pounding from the trail. Once my feet got back their feeling, I realized they were pretty screwed up. Ultramarathons are... long. A lot can change. I desperately wanted to quit after the first two hours. Everything sucked. I was cold, scraped, my feet were messed up, and my socks were muddy. Fortunately I met a woman about my mom's age early in the race and paced with her for a few hours. She was a seasoned ultrarunner, having done several ranging from 50 km’s to 100 milers. This was her sixth time running this race. She was awesome to pace with and gave me good advice. I kept up with her for a while, but alas she was too fast. The rest of the race was a mix of talking to myself and running with random groups of people. I ran with the same two runners from around mile 38 and on. They were both moms from Virginia. Not sure what is about me and older women. They were great company. One especially had a very positive attitude. Having them with me really saved me in the last part of the race. This race was the hardest continuous thing I've ever done. I finished in around thirteen hours. Triathlons are different in that you can go all out in each leg of the race. During ultras, you're using your legs 100% of the time. I don’t actually like running. Being cold and tired isn't something I look forward to. My willpower is especially tested now in the cold, when my alarm goes off in the morning and it’s freezing outside. So why do I run? Spite. In the fall of 2011 I tried out for my high school’s cross country team. Well, you tried out for varsity and if you didn’t make it, there was a spot for you on JV. I remember struggling through try-outs and the first few practices. I was not a runner and endurance was not my forte. One day, the assistant coach took me aside after we got off the bus and told me that running wasn’t for everyone. I solemnly nodded and quit the next day. When asked by my parents and friends, I told them I just didn’t like running. But the coach’s words were tattooed to my memory. I was mad, but mostly at myself. I hated that my endurance was a handicap. From that moment on, I was going to get better at running. Time to clear my mind. I’ve tried meditation but it’s hard for me to sustain a regular practice. Over the years I've found running to be therapeutic and eventually learned that it can serve as meditation. Running is daily, uninterrupted time I have to clear my mind. Self-improvement. I think that running, or endurance sports in general, is the most no-frills path to self-improvement. I learned so much about myself in the thirteen hours I raced that day. I faced demons I didn’t know I had. I came to resolutions on problems that were occupying the back of my mind. I laughed and I cried. I learned more about myself in half a day than I might have learned in ten years of not running ultras. Feeling human. I think many ultrarunners get into the sport because life is too comfortable and it doesn't feel right. We’ve got cars with heated seats and refrigerators stocked full of food. This level of comfort is new to us. There is something special about barely moving forward at mile 42. You're tired, hungry, mad, hurting - but you’ve also never been more in touch with your body. You feel close to death, yet you've never felt more alive. The community. I meet the most insanely resilient people at these races. These people are "normal", yet accomplish feats that would make even the toughest warrior proud. It feels amazing to be surrounded by these amazing humans.