Ultramarathon Man: Confessions of an All-Night Runner by Karnazes Dean

Author:Karnazes, Dean [Karnazes, Dean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: running
ISBN: 1585424803
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2006-03-01T23:00:00+00:00

Robie Point to Oblivion Mile 99 and Beyond

The course was now on paved city streets, but it was still pitch-dark. There were no lampposts along this back-country road on the outskirts of town. No side-walks, either, so I crawled up the middle of the dark road. I rose to my feet and shuffled when capable, but mostly I crawled. Slower and slower I progressed, until my legs were nearly useless and I inched forward using primarily my arms.

The finish was less than a mile away, but it was bullheaded ambition to continue onward in this manner. I would never make it at this rate, the odds were impossible. Still, nothing was going to stop me.

Not even the car that came barreling down the road at me.

I stopped crawling and waved my flashlight at it. Eventually the driver slammed on the brakes, then pulled up beside me. A man and woman leaped out.

“Are you all right?!”

I was flat on my stomach in the road. Slanting my head sideways, I muttered, “Never felt better.”

“Oh, thank God,” the woman cried. “We thought you got hit by a car.”

“Nah,” I groaned. “I just look that way.”

I contorted myself into a sitting position and explained what was going on. They offered to help, but there really wasn’t much they could do. The finish line was so close, but it just as well could have been on a different continent. Destroyed, I reclined on the warm asphalt in front of them, thoroughly defeated.

But when my back hit the ground, a strange phenomenon began: my mind started to replay the events of the day. And through all the pain and despair I’d experienced over the past ninety-nine miles, the memories that came flooding in were good ones of all the people who had helped me along the path. Jim the “foot-repair man.” Nate the water guy at Last Chance. The lady who baked magic brownies. My sister, who inspired me in life, and whose spirit inspired me to this day. The final scene that played through my mind was that of the Indian chief at the Ford’s Bar aid station and the last words he had said to me: “You can do it.”

It hit me as if I’d awoken from a dream, only to realize that I wasn’t dreaming at all. I turned to the couple standing by their car and defiantly proclaimed, “I can.”

They both stared at me. With even more resilience in my voice I repeated, “I can!”

They blinked at me, but the husband played along.

“Yes,” he bellowed. “Yes, you can!”

I jumped to my feet and started shaking my arms and legs wildly. I swung my head around, letting out an animal-like growl. And then I took off, dashing up the road, shouting, “I can! I can!”

The initial few steps were agonizing, but it’s not like the hurt came as some big surprise. I knew what to expect by this point. Though it hurt like never before, I no longer just numbly accepted the pain for what it was.

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