Keep Marching - Ultra Running Magazine
Death marching downhill into the aid station made me think of a time when I had run this section fast, or at least faster or at least, had run it at all. That was a different day, and a different version of myself. Amazing runners, some almost twice my age, rushed past. Dust diffused through the windy morning air, and I thought of the front pack that must be on a tear on this peculiarly cold race day. The energy in the aid station below was palpable from a half-mile above. I could hear music, ch...