rain is gone and it’s getting hot again, but my energy level remains high. Alexander Ridge (46 miles) sits ina field of waist-high grass on alow ridge with I-80 in the background. I surge on in, take a short break, and push on, up a fivemile-long, strait-as-an-arrow jeep trail between the hills and away from the highway. It seems to go forever, and the mundane sameness begins to wear on me. My power walk slows some, yet I manage to hold on and stay the course, wanting desperately to reach Lamb’s Canyon before dark. It was a mistake, I realize, not bringing a flashlight with me from the last station, and it begins to worry me.

I’m passed by a gaggle of local college kids running their first ultra. One of them is talking into a cell phone. It seems so out of place. About the same time, we all turn off the road onto a trail, and I pick up my pace, surging past them and charging down the trail, winding round and round the trees, dumping onto a dirt road, and turning right. Within minutes, I can see the Lamb’s Canyon aid station off in the distance. I run toward it and then past it, seeing it way below and to the left. The trail circles a hilltop only to come back at the aid station and pass it again, this time on the right. I can look directly down on top of it. This is getting old. The trail seems to go about a mile or two directly away and then turns back to the aid station one more time. This time we’re really close, and we turn down a short hill to cross a bubbling brook.

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It takes me a moment to figure out how to cross the brook, but then I find the flat stones partially submerged in the water. After the beaver dam, I turn left, cross a tiny bridge, and climb a short steep hill into Lamb’s Canyon aid station (51 miles)—at last! As I come in, the sky is misting while the sun shines through the mist. Joyce comes up to me and gives mea light kiss and a large smile. This moment I will remember for a long time. The entire sequence of events has seemed more dreamlike than real. It is 7:00 pm, and I have won my race with the sunset. My first major battle is won.

SANITY, DESIRE, AND THE NATURAL LAW OF BIG BUTTS ROLLING DOWNHILL

Joyce is going to pace me the rest of the way, through 49 miles of mountains and valleys. I’m sorry she has missed what I have already seen and will miss so much more because of darkness. The raw beauty of the Wasatch Mountains is worth seeing.

Joyce has paced me in a few 100s already, and I could not ask for a better companion. She knows me so well and can coax and push and talk me through the long night on into the next sunrise.

It will be dark soon and I ready myself for the night: long tights, longsleeved capilene shirts, gloves, hat, and flashlights. I fix my feet and change shoes again. Joyce is ready, so we walk uphill out of the Lamb’s Canyon aid station ready for the second half. I think I’m in pretty good shape as we walk under I-80 and up the paved road through Lamb’s Canyon. In this narrow valley, darkness comes quickly, while we walk along with Jan from California up to the turnoff, across the stream, and onto a trail. Jan disappears ahead of us as we begin the long climb up to Bear Ass Pass in the dark.

I die so many times on this climb, sitting repeatedly as my head gets dizzy. The dark, the altitude, the exertion, the exhaustion all gang up on me and beat me down. I know Joyce begins to question my ability to continue. My sanity! My desire.

The trail is soft and easy, but I’m done in and losing it badly. Joyce is getting pretty cold just waiting for me. We eventually top out, and after a short break to regain my senses, begin to roll down the backside . . . and I do mean roll! We pick up speed as my big butt follows the natural law of big butts rolling downhill. I go faster and faster, and everyone moves aside as we come at them. We pass Kevin Sayers on this downhill romp and exchange best wishes as our two ships pass in the night: “Joe, you’re back!” and “I’ll see you on the next hill, Kevin!”

We hit the street with a thump and turn up the paved road past the police truck with flashing lights. The road is just a slight uphill tilt for a while. I quickly

Joe with Joyce, his companion in life and on the trails.

go from running to a power walk and hold to it for a bit, but this soon falls to a slow walk as the road lasts forever. The roadside stream rumbles loudly on our left as we continue, seemingly forever. Cars passin both directions and are pretty considerate to our presence; many even switch driving lights to parking lights as they pass. But the road seems to last and last, and then it grows even steeper. It’s getting really cold, so we bundle up. I stop to sit down on the road for a moment, and later I find a concrete embankment over the creek to rest on. Eventually, we splash into the Big Water aid station (59 miles).

COURTESY OF JOE PRUSAITIS

LAUGHTER AT DESOLATION LAKE, RUNNING WITH THE MOON, AND FINDING A LONG LOST FRIEND

Man, am I dog tired. I have some soup, ramen, hot chocolate, oranges . . . and then give it all back. I toss the whole load. I should stay a few more minutes to rest and reload, but being rather dense at the moment, I walk out of the station

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