4:45 am.  Ugh.  I don’t get up this early for work, and here it’s Saturday.  A quick wakeup shower, then time to get my gear on.  Long sleeve tech shirt, short sleeve Grand Island Trail Marathon/North Face tech shirt.  Compression shorts.  Running shorts.  Vibram fivefingers; my lizard feet.  Threw on my old windpants.

Slightly nervously, I drank some water and ate a piece of whole grain bread with peanut butter and honey.  I wanted to cram a couple eggs and a Clif Bar, but the guts ain’t having it.

Wake Joy at 5:30.  As she got ready, I went over my other equipment.  Filled up the Camelbak bladder and dropped in some electrolyte tabs.  Stuffed chocolate PowerGels and Starburst fruit snacks into the hip pockets on my Camelbak.  I tied on my bandana.  I’d like to call it “lucky” but I’ve had about as much bad luck as good.

We hit the road a little late, after an argument about Teslin coming (Teslin came) and getting some gas.  The weather was cold and rainy.  39 degrees when we left the house.  It took a little longer than we remembered to get out to Ottawa Lake, and the thermometer was down to 35 when we parked.

Steve was already there, somewhere in the crowd.  I grabbed my bib and chip and surprisingly, found Steve right away.  We were ten minutes from the gun.  Joy took our picture as we moved up near the start line.  Five minutes.  I shucked my jacket and windpants.  Shorts? Steve asked.  Of course, I said.  I only wear tights below freezing.

There was a count down.  Ten, nine, eight, seven.. you get the idea.  Then it was GO.

50 kilometers.  31.07 miles, if you want to get all familiar about it.  Steve and I were running our first ultramarathon.

We ran up and over the first big hill, then cruised a wide path loop through the woods.  Some rolling hills, nothing too bad.  We hit our first aid station and gobbled down some food.  Then another, shorter loop, this one with a little more mud.  We chatted.  We chatted with other runners, mostly about my lizard feet.  The second aid station.  As Steve wrestled with a tube of M&M’s (ultimately giving them back when he couldn’t get it open), I chowed down on gummi fruits.

We left, and the trail got narrow.  Twisting, winding through the trees, no room to pass, a cluster of single file crazy people running in the woods.  We weren’t that crazy, we would say.  Other people are running the 50 *mile* race today.

The sky was open to us again but the trail stayed tight as we crossed the highway and entered the fields.  We thought they were fields, anyway.  Marshes would be a kind term.  Grasses and weeds shoulder-high brushed our column as we ran.  Sometimes it was just mud, sometimes it was standing water.  Lucky for me, the lizard feet drain almost as fast as they fill with icy mud water.  Almost.

We crossed boardwalks and were thankful that we weren’t crossing streams and slime ponds.  We also yelled “WHOOP” a lot as our muddy feet slipped on the wet and muddy boards.  The trail through the marshes felt like it was designed by a caffeinated 3rd grader.  Meandering, endless, no sense of direction.

Suddenly we were at aid station three.  More scarfing.  We hung around for a few minutes.  So did about a dozen other runners.  No hurry today.  Eat and drink, then run on to the next section.  Pee as soon as you’re out of view.  We were happy to be out of the mud, but we had traded it for something much worse.

Hills.  There had been hills all along, but not like this.  Big, winding hills.  There’s rocks under the leaves, Steve told me.  I have five millimeters of rubber under my feet.  I know where the rocks are.

This is the section where we start walking.  I ran until my quads started to lock, then it was time to walk.  We were roughly 20 miles in, and really, no one was going to complain about walking.  When we got to the next aid station, Steve told me to eat a salted potato.  Good way to get salts back in you, he tells me, a raw potato slice covered in salt.  I ate one.  It was as bad as you think.  I also ate a handful of M&M’s, Skittles, pretzels, four brownies, a banana, half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a cup of chicken soup, two cups of Mountain Dew, a cup of water, and another packet of fruit snacks.

You ready? I asked.  Yep, Steve answered.  We started running again.  Most other people might disagree with how I describe our movement, but I’m pretty sure we were running.  We shuffled along, walking, running, whatever.  Our muscles were definitely tired, but our minds were positive.  We’re both normally solo runners, but having a “team” was better than any of the aid station food.  Even the brownies.  With the other person there, we were able to keep out negative thoughts.  Once you start thinking negative, start wishing you were anywhere else, you’re just about defeated.

But not us.

At the last aid station, they told us “3.7 miles left!”  That’s a 6k.  That’s nothing.  I pounded a couple cups of energy drink.  Some other runners were looking at the potatoes.  One asked, how does it taste?  I answered, it tastes like hate.  He ate his potato.  Yes, that is an accurate description, he said.

Less than four miles left.  We definitely got a boost.  After a little while, we recognized the trail we were on.  We started to run a little faster.  We’re gonna make it, we said.  Our legs became awesome as we cruised down through the trees.  I ditched my Camelbak with Joy two miles from the finish.  I gave a pre-emptive victory cry that echoed in the woods.

Okay so we walked up the last big hill.  But then we ran.  The finish line appeared around a turn.  Come on baby, yeah, we got this.  Fist bump.

We crossed under the archway with a real victory cry.  We did it.

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