We are at mile 135, 45 miles to go! It is my turn again, the third of my five-mile laps. The massage therapist takes one last pass at my burning calves. I down two gulps of Gatorade while my teammates pat me on the back and wish me well. I am out of the van and into the darkness, clutching my flashlight. Is not running an alternative? No, my teammates are counting on me to do my last lap and get us to mile 140.
     We started 18 hours ago, Runner 1 coming down Mt. Hood from Timberline Lodge at elevation 6500’. The first leg drops 3000’ in five miles. If that sounds easy, try it sometime. On my first leg as Runner 3, I was going downhill, towards Rhododendron, trying to hold back from running too fast. I knew I had to do this twice again in the next 15 hours.
     But now I am starting my last lap. My eyes adjust to the darkness as my flashlight stabs the inky night and highlights the giant fir trees outlining the road ahead. I will run two miles uphill to crest the Coast Range, the last barrier between our team and the Pacific Ocean, now 44 miles ahead. I’m slow on the flats but running uphill under tough conditions is my forte. But not sleeping and running ten miles has taken its toll.
     The van passes by and my teammates shout encouragement from the open windows. They disappear up the road to mile 140 where I will hand off the baton to Runner 4. I momentarily lose concentration as the tail lights of the van fade from my sight. I step on a rock and pain shoots up my arch. Falling, I spontaneously roll on my right shoulder. The elbow digs into my rib cage as my body slams onto the gravel road. The pain in my side overcomes that of my aching foot. I lie there on the gravel wondering if can go on.
     Suddenly, I hear two runners approach. They are from the all-female team, Roadside Attractions. They are from Portland and this is the third year we have seen them in the race. Our team played tag with them all day until our Runner 1 left them behind two legs back. The women stop and help me up, adding minutes to their time. “Want to finish with us?” they ask.
     “God, I was afraid you would not offer,” I respond. I am crying and I don’t know why: pain; their generous gesture; happy to see them? No time to figure it out, just start moving.
     I struggle ahead. What is hurting the most, my foot, my rib or my legs after running these 12 miles? My thoughts go back to my first construction job out of college. It was on a dreary morning in a crew boat on Tampa Bay heading out to the job site. I asked the Captain how he felt. “I feel worse all over than any place else, he replied.” That’s me, right now.
     Women always talk when they run, guys never do. I don’t know why. They talk about their lives, their boyfriends and their jobs. Politely they direct a question to me. I cannot respond. I am out of breath, my foot is swelling against the laces of my shoe and my rib hurts with every landing of my right foot. I keep going because they keep going.
     Finally, lights ahead. It is mile 140. I catch up with the women and we run across the line together. Runner 4 grabs the baton and I fall to the road. I have given everything I have. At this moment I am Edmund Hilary and Tenzig Norgay; I am Robert Scott and Ernest Shackleton. Nothing held in reserve, nothing left to give.
     My teammates lift me roughly, hoisting me into the van. No one expects a downed runner to have a broken rib. Injuries in this sport are to feet, ankles and knees. The therapist starts working on my thighs and calves. Someone pours cold water on my aching head and spills some over my lips.
     Later, at first light, we gather at mile 179.5 near Cape Kiwanda. The ocean is in sight. Tradition holds that we run the last half mile, onto the beach and cross the finish line as a team, supporting our anchor, Runner 12. She comes over a slight rise and we fall in behind her.

February, 2003
(Original version written in Yelapa, Mexico; February, 2002.)

Ogden Beeman is a maritime consultant residing in Portland, Oregon. He has completed Alaska Memories and Asia Memories, personal memoirs about his years spent working and living in those two regions of the world. As a writer, he is exploring different ways to tell his stories outside of the confines of memoir. Professionally, he is presently serving as an advisor to the Panama Canal Authority.