On Wednesday, October 12, 2005, Dean Karnazes started out on a 350-mile run through Northern California with his family following behind in an RV. His goal was to test the physical limits of his body while raising money for childhood organ donation. The winner of the 2004 Badwater Ultramarathon completed his run on Saturday, October 15, in 80 hours and 44 minutes, averaging 13 minutes per mile. A lot can happen to a runner on the road for three and a half days. We spoke to Karnazes on his cell phone during his odyssey. Here's what he had to say.



WEDNESDAY

7:50 a.m.

"Dropped my two kids off at school."



2:08 p.m.

"Mile one in San Francisco—349 to go."



8:14 p.m.

"My plan is to change my shoes every 50 miles. I have three pairs to rotate."



THURSDAY

3:29 a.m.

"Skunk. I've seen a lot of skunks out here. I've also seen bobcats, deer, coyote, and lots of possums."



7:12 a.m.

"These huge trucks are dropping grapes all over the road. I'm in the Napa Valley so there are grapes everywhere. I'm making wine as I run."



9:00 a.m.

Mile 100 near Healdsburg in the Alexander Valley. "I feel how I think I should feel 100 miles into it. I'm just putting one foot in front of the other. But coffee would be good."



2:10 p.m.

"The weather out here is brutal. It's up in the mid-90s. It's roasting."



11:22 p.m.

"I ate some fresh berry pie, but I think I needed something with more salt. Yesterday I had a burrito and lots of trail mix, granola, and almonds. I have a variety of foods to choose from, but I always seem to want something else."



FRIDAY

7:24 a.m.

"I call the hours from 7 a.m. to 9 a.m. the bewitching hours. You feel depressed and tired, like the world is closing in on you, in a bad sort of way. Right now I feel pretty good. But that could change in a couple hundred feet."



9:30 a.m.

"I'm in Petaluma in Northern California about 200 miles in. I'm still standing. My feet hurt the worst. I have blisters on top of blisters. I think I've lost four or five toenails—poor little guys."



12:00 p.m.

"I don't think about when I'm going to finish. With 135 miles to go I don't feel the gravitational pull of the finish at all."



2:18 p.m.

"I'm rotating six or seven pairs of socks. My family rinses them out and puts them in the freezer to cool down."



7:54 p.m.

"Got some chafing issues going on."



SATURDAY

2:21 a.m.

"I've been sleep running. I suddenly woke up and realized I'm still running. And the really bizarre thing is that I feel like I got a little catnap."



6:45 a.m.

"After 300 miles, I started stumbling and weaving into traffic. For my safety we measured the distance to the Stanford University track and I'm headed there to run the last 50 miles."



2:00 p.m.

"Definitely the right thing to do. Everyone was afraid I'd get run over on the road. Plus, there are no hills on the track and I can easily get aide."



9:07 p.m.

Mile 340. "Finishing this is as close to an out-of-body experience as I've ever had. Earlier on, the pain always brought my mind back, but for these last ten miles I've felt totally disassociated from my body."



10:44 p.m.

Mile 350. "High-five crew, go into hypothermia, pass out."



THREE DAYS LATER

"I feel like I've been in a train accident. Every single cell hurts. But I'm feeling better today than I was yesterday. I might even try a two-or three-mile run. Ultimately, I'd like to run 500 miles nonstop, and I still think that's doable. But after this experience, it might take a better runner than me. I just can't get my head around tacking 150 miles onto that."



Joanna Sayago Golub Joanna Sayago Golub is a freelance food and nutrition writer and editor and a contributing editor at Runner's World.

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