To claim Epicness for myself and to inspire it in my teammates, to join the proud tradition of Death Before Dishonor, and due to prior convictions about becoming a man, between ECACs and Lilac Games I ran overnight from Syracuse to Rochester.

I carried the following items with me in a small Camelback:

Water: 70oz bladder, plus a 1 liter water bottle

Food: 5 Cliff Bars, pb&j sandwich, Ziploc bag half full of trail mix

Clothes: 1 extra short sleeve shirt, 1 extra long sleeve shirt (heavy), 1 extra pair of shorts, 1 extra windbreaker, 1 pair Jeffrey Bordeaux Memorial Socks, 2 hats (winter hat for warmth and baseball cap for sun protection)

Headlamp (to see and make me visible), and Extra batteries for headlamp

iPhone and charger (text updates and video footage)

Emergency supplies: Space blanket, Compass, Whistle, Vaseline, Bandaids, ‘6 Rs’ article, Credit card. Didn't have to use any of these (and in a late delusional stage actually became convinced that I didn't have the credit card)

Skeletal Summary: The first marathon took 4:00, the next 4:40, and the last over 10 hours. I ran all of the first 40 miles, and about 18 of the next 25. The last 15 miles I walked, progressively more slowly and with more difficulty. The last 10 miles took six hours, which were the hardest of my life. I was crying much of the way, and it was all I could do to keep going. Now it's Tuesday, and it still hurts, but I can walk again. I’m going to spend a while on details for those interested (and to remind myself never to do this again) before turning to some reflections. But first let me situate this feat by recalling some history which most of us already know.

In December 2007 the legendary Nick Roosa graduated from the University of Rochester, and capped his legacy by completing the Bicentennial, running 107 miles and drinking 105 beers over the course of a week. In May of 2008 the great Pat Hughes turned this pioneering feat into a tradition by running the 110 miles from Rochester to his home in Homer, NY. I was a sophomore when these events transpired, and seeing the effect that these heroic feats had upon bringing the Rochester community together around the ideal of epicness, I decided that this was a tradition that must live on and that I wanted to be a part of it. I would have to bide my time until graduation, and then perform my own Passage to Manhood.

Well, suddenly it was Senior Week. All around me, people were just trying to enjoy their senior years. An alluring siren no doubt, but I had ECACs the Friday after graduation to tie me to the mast. Days before graduation I remembered the promise I had made to myself three years earlier. The moment to strive for greatness and immortality was nigh upon me!

My first idea was to run home from ECACs. I would visit several bars on the cooldown after my last collegiate 5k, then commence the roughly 50 mile journey home subsisting only on beer. Another idea was to run from Belfast, NY to Allentown, PA. This would complete the journey from Rochester to my home in Bryn Mawr, PA on foot, as I had previously run from U of R to Belfast as a part of the Greenway Adventure with Danny, Pat, and Joe (an 80 mile journey in four segments), and had walked from my house to Allentown with my brother (a 50 mile journey in one two-day segment). The uncompleted middle segment is roughly 240 miles, and I expected it to take six or seven days. Unfortunately, both of these plans would involve missing the Lilac games.

On Wednesday, a couple hours before leaving for ECACs, I called Pat from the locker room to get his input about what to do. He liked the idea of running home from ECACs, but advised against the beer and suggested adding an intermediate destination to make it a bit further. He also suggested trying to find a ride to Syracuse after the meet, running from Syracuse to Rochester, then participating in the Lilac Games when I arrived. This would have the added element of running overnight, and not missing the Lilac Games. I also liked the greater team involvement that this plan would allow, and made it Plan A.

I took all my stuff with me to ECACs in case I couldn’t get a ride to Syracuse (to be picked up by my parents, who were coming to the meet). I sat next to Adam on the bus, and asked him whether his parents were coming to the meet. He said they were but didn’t suspect my ulterior motive, which I then informed him of. He called to ask if I could ride home with them after the 5k, but wasn’t able to get in touch. I ultimately got permission in person about an hour before leaving.

After his 10k on Thursday, Pinto told me he was thinking about coming with me, and I said I would be glad for the company. On Friday morning we talked to Kurtis, who gave us some excellent advice from a position of experience. Later that day, Jon backed out mainly due to fears of permanent injury, a very legitimate concern.

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I caught a ride to the Pacheck household with Adam's father after my 5k, and after gratefully accepting a sandwich and several Cliff Bars I headed out. Running down Adam's street it hit me how serious, daunting, and uncertain a task I was undertaking. Until this point I had assumed that I would succeed, but once actually plodding down the road, with weight on my back and tightness and fatigue in my legs from the race earlier, this seemed like a very bold assumption. There certain non-negotiable limits to what is possible. But the sun was just setting as I turned from Peck onto Brickyard, and I heard some wolves or coyotes howling. My legs started to loosen up a bit, and I started to enjoy myself. Brickyard to Warner to 31W. Cut my leg on a stick (trying to pee while still running) and figured it was time to break out the headlamp.

Around 11 miles in I hopped onto a cinder trail which was crossing 31. Turned out to be the canalway trail, and I enjoyed the cinder surface and replacement of cars by flora. My hips started getting tight around mile 13, so I threw in a few surges at a faster pace to loosen up. Having a backpack on definitely alters my stride. Got a text from Pinto requesting hourly updates, decided I could do this.

Canal took me to Weedsport, 16 miles in. Nice to see some lights and life. Too late I realized I'd run through the whole town, and I decided to wait until Port Byron to restock on water rather than turning around even though I was basically out. Four more pleasant miles on the canal. As soon as I arrived in Port Byron I realized that I'd made a horrible mistake. There's nothing here, and after this is the swamp. Both gas stations were closed for the night. I bang on the windows, check for spickets out back, to no avail. I continued on somewhat hesitantly...is it worth it to go back to Weedsport? I found a house with a light on and knocked on the door. Guy comes to the open window, "What the fuck are you doing on my porch?" "Hi, sorry it's so late, I was just wondering if you could please fill up this bottle with water, thanks ... Thank you so much! I'm sorry to ask again, but could you actually also fill up this bag? It's very urgent." "Actually, I was going to go to bed." "Please, this is really urgent - " "Get the fuck off my property." It's a little before midnight.

I know it's probably going to be a while before I have another opportunity to get water, but I decide not worry about it and to enjoy myself. It's a nice night, cool and clear, and running still feels good. The road is straight and empty, so I turn off my headlamp to feel more a part of the landscape. There are fields to both sides and forever. I can see by the moon, and I realize I can navigate by it.

Around mile 23 I see a sign saying I've entered the Montezuma National Wildlife refuge. It's still mostly fields although I cross a few streams and rivers. At about 12:40am I unwittingly complete my first marathon. I pass a sign "Syracuse: 30" (but more like 26.5) and hop off 31 which appears to swing north. Quads definitely getting tired, and my left arch is cramping and painful, but I still feel smooth and pleasant overall. Mile 29 I cross two metal bridges and there's a marshy area to my left. Every few strides I hear a "KERSPLOOSH!" as some sort of largish swamp animal dives into the water. I try to catch a glimpse but they're too fast.

This is the end of the swamp, and now it's back to farmlands and rolling hills. Keep the moon to my left and enjoy myself. Don't look at the puddles. Eventually I hit 414 which tells me Clyde (or Lyons?) is due north. I head north then take the next road west, and before I know it I find myself schlepping up a twisty one lane dirt road with trailer tracks a foot deep. Remarkably this road becomes paved again before long, and starts to bear north which is exactly what I want.

35 miles in I walk for a few minutes (two or three?) while I drink my half liter of water and eat a Cliff bar. The temperature drops and it starts raining, so I start running again even though not quite done with the bar. Running is starting to feel much harder, especially on the uphills. I can feel myself crashing but I just keep pushing forward. Mile 38, I have a choice between getting onto 31 or continuing on ‘Lyons Marengo’ which I assume is Spanish for ‘keep going this way if you want water’. Which I do, so I do. I come through some sort of industrial park. No water. Walking again, perhaps half a mile. Then I hit downtown, and find a convenience store with a spicket outside! Turn the knob, hot water sprays out, thank god! I fill up my bottle, drink about half of it, and immediately realize two things. First, that the water is not hot but reasonably cold, and second, that I'm shivering uncontrollably. I take off my sweaty shirt, and put on my dry short sleeve, my heavy long sleeve, my yellow windbreaker, and my winter hat. Now I realize a third thing, that all I've eaten so far is a pb&j at mile 15 and Cliff bar at 35, which isn’t enough. I'm at 41 now. I fill up my 70oz bladder and eat a few handfuls of trailmix, then open a new Cliff bar and set out, still shivering. It's about 3:15am.

I'm crashing hard. Still shivering and legs are bricks. I decide to walk for a while to give myself a chance to refuel and rehydrate. I try to take the canal out of Lyons, but apparently the trail is elsewhere (south). I take 31 instead, walking quickly. Set a deadline of sunrise to begin running. At 5:00am I start up at a painful trot. After a few minutes I loosen up and I'm moving along decently. I stop for a couple minutes at 5:10 to take off extra layers and change back into my UR Track shirt. Around dawn I come into the town of Newark. I'm trotting along at about 10 minute pace, and I imagine people take me for just another early morning weekend warrior. I like the anonymity.

6:00am and a little over 49 miles in. I get on the canal trail just past Newark. The sun is up and I'm feeling good. I'm able to run for the next hour, in part by playing around with my stride. My second marathon is about 4:40 (6:20am so I'm 8:40 in). See some nice graffiti. Running starts to get very, very hard. I keep flogging myself onward for the next hour until about mile 58 (7:20am), when the canal trail seems to end. (In fact it didn't end, I was somewhat delusional.) I fill a bottle with water at a fountain and walk across a lock, then up a driveway to Quaker Road. This road is exposed to the sun and seems mountainous compared to the canal trail. I decide I'll walk this uphill, and I call Lia to tell her I love her but I mostly just end up coughing. Start running again, have to stop every few minutes. The downhills are scary - I run, but my legs can hardly take the impact and I'm on the verge of collapsing.

I get back on the canal at the next bridge, still mixing walking with running but with more and more walking. I realize that I can run like a crazed racewalker - using my glutes more to push off, knees locked, rocking my hips for leg extension - and this buys me a good two mile stretch of running at probably 10 or 11 minute pace. Every step is an effort though, and soon these new muscles are exhausted as well. Can't bend my knees, can't handle the impact of landing with straight legs. It's 8:30am (about 12 hours in), and I'm at 63 miles, still along the canal.

Switch to walking. Rocking my hips and pumping with my arms about as hard as I can, getting as much ground as I can with each step and trying to keep the cadence high. Take a video clip. Want to make it to Rochester by 12:40pm (12min pace average). Start seeing bikers and walkers along the canal. A nice old couple gives me a bottle of water. I'm striving to catch up to a family about 150m ahead, just out for a casual stroll. Initially I'm gaining some ground, maybe down to 75m before it holds steady and they pull away a bit. Get to a bridge that says 31F, and I decide to walk through Fairport to Elmwood knowing this is much more direct than the canal.

At about 10am, walking through a residential neighborhood in Fairport about 69.5 miles into my journey, I break down crying. I can watch it happening from the inside, weird. A suburban mom and five year old daughter pushing a stroller stare at me as I stagger by sobbing. I get a call from my dad wondering where I am. My mind is full of cotton at this point so the conversation is approximate. "Hey Tyle! This is your dad, I'm just calling to check in. How's it going?" "Tired..." "Yeah I bet! You've been going for a long time! Where are you now?" "...Fairport.." "Wow! That's great! You're so close!" "...10 miles..." "Yeah, you're almost there! .. Did you sleep at all, or take any long breaks?" "..no.." "That's amazing Tyle, you're doing really great. I hope everything structurally is okay?" "..I think so..(I had no idea what this meant)" "Cool. Well, good luck with the last little bit! Call if you need anything!" I don't want my dad to hear me crying, so I do my best to disguise it.

I make it to a Subway around mile 70.5, and walk in to ask for water. "Right over there!" I'm getting water mostly on the floor rather than into my bottle but I eventually get it full. Then I go outside and sit at a table, setting a deadline of 20 minutes. This is my first time sitting since the ride to Syracuse, and it feels excellent. I fall asleep in the process of getting the rocks out of my shoes, and I'm awoken about a minute later. "Hey man, are you alright?" "Yeah, thanks, just very tired." I'm watching myself from the inside again as I say this, surprised at how coherently I can respond. "But you've hurt your leg!" This makes me laugh inside. A trivial flesh wound! "Thanks, but really I'm fine. Just a scratch." I drink a little bit more water, eat a little bit of trailmix, then take a short video. I'm doing everything so slowly that somehow it's been over half an hour, so I push myself up to my feet, stagger and almost fall, take a few moments to get moving, limp as gracefully as I can into the subway again to refill my water and then leave.

I loosen up a little bit after the first few minutes, speeding up perhaps from .5mph to 2mph, but running is simply unthinkable. Pumping my arms and swinging my legs like pendula. Fairport Road is endless. I'm forced to walk in the road because there is no sidewalk, and walking on grass or uneven surfaces requires both stabilizer muscles and knee lift that I no longer have. Cars pass me just several feet wide at 50mph trying to teach me a lesson. FUCK YOU. My thoughts start turning angry and frustrated. Try to ignore it but cars almost killing you is hard to ignore. Use my anger to stay focused, which is very hard in my present condition, but important, can't let myself wander into a car. Positive self talk. Focus. Every time I see a light in the distance I think it must be Elmwood. Past East Rochester High School, past 490, past St. John Fisher. Two hours of this. It’s noon now.

Finally get to Elmwood, still no shoulder. Fill up my water bottle at a golf course. A decorative 1-foot high stone wall almost keeps me out, but I’m able to find a low section with a tree overhanging for support. The fountain doesn’t initially work, but I’m able to turn a valve to make it work. Stare down a guy practicing his driving. Drills is better. No longer have control of my bladder, and only have a few seconds warning before I start to pee, so I just stop for a moment wherever I am, pull down my pants and aim. Between five and ten such episodes, one of them while I am standing in the road. Focus. Elmwood goes on and on. Even when I get to Clinton, which is ordinarily so close, I know that I’m hours away. Deep breaths. I can’t figure out the time anymore but I want to make it by four o’clock. I stop crying but I also stop sweating. Can’t think. I experience the danger people in walkers face when crossing the street, cars may get impatient or forget you’re still there. One lady almost hits me this way, I give her a violent gesture, keep hobbling at top speed. My arms still work. Focus. Breath. Several people offer me rides, I say no thank you. Try to focus. No clouds or shade. Just want shade. Notice I can't see. Focus on speed.

I make it to Mt. Hope and Elmwood. A few minutes later I make some phone calls to the team to let them know where I am. Almost there. I wonder if this is too large a distance to call from in my present state, but that had been my plan and I’m not thinking well enough to revise it. Last stretch! Push! Working my arms. Stay focused. I’m at the top of Library Road and I people I recognize down at the bottom! Pinto joins me partway up and he’s talking to me, but I can’t really understand what he’s saying and I’m just watching myself respond on autopilot.

My friends surround me as I walk onto the track, and they start singing me The Genesee. I join in and start crying. I want to seem as normal as possible and I’m worried that crying will give away how tired I am. My friends help me sit down in a chair by the track, bring me water and Jizzo, take off my shoes and spray off my legs. I’m being asked questions and I’m doing my best to respond but it’s so hard to process everything. I did it!!!

Danlane announces: “We present these Games for your entertainment!” Thus commenced the 1500m steeple, and hence the Fourth Annual Lilac Games. This brought tears to my eyes again. As Andrew got second in the steeple, he said ‘this is for you, Tyle’. I assume he won the racewalk for the same reason.

Caitlyn brought me the best burrito bowl of all time, and I finished several more liters of water and Jizzo. Tim brought me a smoothie and a bagel, and the smoothie was delicious. Pinto brought me a bottle to pee in, since I couldn’t stand. Eventually I got cold, and Danlane lent me clothing. What I really needed was a bed, and Kevin DeFranco offered me his. The team lifted my chair and carried me to Paul’s car, then drove me to SueB. I pulled myself out of the car and onto Kevin’s back, who carried me to his bed.

The next few days have been all about recovery. I slept a fitful 15 hours on Saturday night, but I was able to get out of bed on Sunday morning (with just a little bit of help). I was able to walk better and better throughout the day, although I never got beyond 'painful limp'. Mentally I was still hazy. I also ate unreal amounts of food - I would eat, feel good, then be hungry again 45 minutes later. I slept another 12 or 13 hours Sunday night, and was lethargic all day Monday, although my limp was less painful. Now, on Tuesday, I'm back to eating an almost normal amount, and I'm walking almost normally albeit with some minor pain. My feet, ankles, and knees are still very swollen (I've been icing), and my quads are slightly swollen. All of my leg muscles are sore, but especially my quads and right hamstring. My IT bands are also tight and a little painful. But it's getting to the point where it feels like it was worth it.

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I can’t thank everyone enough for your friendship and support, and everything that you did to take care of me when I had run myself to the brink of hospitalization. I hesitate to mention any names, because I don't intend to mention them all (you know who you are anyway, better than I do actually because I was pretty out of it), but some people just really went above and beyond and need to be mentioned. Kevin, I hardly knew you and you literally carried me on your back and let me sleep in your bed when I was covered in grime. And then you brought me food and water, and helped me to the shower in the morning. Brad, you let me sleep in your room, hardly blinked when you learned I’d peed in your trashcan, and didn't even make me clean it out. That's true friendship. To Pinto, for not letting those impatient squirts start the Lilac Games before I got there, and for demonstrating that I can still integrate after an 80 mile run... kind of. To whoever's idea it was to sing the Genesee. To Tim and AJ, for being worried that I had conjunctivitis even though my eyes were just secreting mucus due to dehydration. To Danlane and Fleish, I love you guys. To Kurtis, for much-needed advice. To Adam, and especially his family, for porting me to Baldwinsville and inviting me into their home. To my dad and brother, for thinking this was a good idea, and to my mom and Lia, for not telling me that they didn't. Less obviously to Roosa, for the Bicentennial, and to Pat, Danny, Chebot, and Joe, with whom I endured the trials of miles through that fateful and historic winter. And to all of URXC throughout the years for creating the community that has meant and continues to mean so much to me. Thank you all so much!

The first 68 miles of this run were difficult but reasonable. The last 12 miles were unreasonable. To borrow a phrase from Pat, who also knows, these last miles were brutally, soul-searchingly difficult. Certain mistakes were made during the course of this run, and had they been avoided the journey may have been completed with less agony. However, I am satisfied with how things played out. My goal was not merely to perform a crazy gimmick, but to take myself as close to the edge as I could, and to hold myself there peering over it, while still making it back to the well-manicured lawns. I accomplished this as well as I would ever like to.