StumpJump 50k (pt 1)

I stagger into the 19-mile aid station, ready to quit. Behind me lies the most hated stretch of the Rock/Creek StumpJump 50k, a patch of loose rocks and boulders called the "Rock Garden," which exhausted runners pick their way through, hoping not to twist an ankle or take a spill.

Three miles ago, I left the 16 mile aid station ready to throw up, and in the middle of the next climb, that was exactly what I did. I heaved violently, my body curling over a fallen tree, as runners passed on the trail. My brother Eric and his friend Kevin stood behind me, waiting for the nausea to pass.

Two tiny pieces of apple emerged, and my stomach relaxed enough for me to continue.

Now, with over eleven miles left, I need to do some serious thinking about what this race is worth to me. I haven't been able to hold down food or fluids. I have been running for more than five hours. If I continue, Eric and Kevin will either need to run ahead to the finish or add hours to their time.

A volunteer asks me how I'm doing.

"I want to die," I tell him, then stagger over to a bench nearby, where I sit down and work on figuring out if I have any resources left to rally.

"There's a van leaving in ten minutes. You have a long way to go. We don't want you to, but if you need to go back to the start, we can take you," the volunteer says, looking out at the ragged group of runners sprawled out around the clearing.

"Give me ten minutes," I tell Kevin and Eric, not knowing if the team will be one man down when those ten minutes pass.

I try to eat a peanut-butter-filled pretzel. I gag. I look at the pringles and animal crackers and gummi bears and moon pies and other snacks laid out for us, and I wonder how I was ever able to eat anything without throwing up, and if I'll ever be able to look at food in the same way again. Finally, I settle on two animal crackers, taking them in my sweaty hand and plodding back over to the bench where Kevin and Eric wait.

We sit quietly for a while. Nearby, I hear another runner telling his wife several reasons he might not continue.

The volunteer returns after not enough time has passed.

"I'm taking a van back to the starting line. If you need to go back, I can take you."

He looks around, making eye contact with me, specifically. I clamp my jaw shut and watch him turn, in what seems like slow motion, and head back to the van, which could have carried me from this godforsaken trail.

I stand up slowly, without much conviction, and tell Eric and Kevin I'm ready to get moving again.