The primary aid station beckoned to me, but its seductive promise of rest and rejuvenation was still two miles ahead. Two dusty, sun-blasted miles that included a significant uphill stretch. For someone on the verge of physical and mental collapse, it might as well have been 20.

I don’t mean to create the impression that everything was smooth and effortless. At one point, I think around mile 8, a guy just ahead of me slowed suddenly and we got tangled up. I was only on the ground for a second but long enough to leave some skin behind.

But by mile 43 of the 2024 Tunnel Hill Ultramarathon, it was no longer just running, and I was no longer having a good time.