Did I really say I would run 16 miles?

I was actually pretty excited about running with Ed for one of his 16-mile loops on his quest to finish 100 miles and bring in a boatload of money to support the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. I said I would help him out with the fourth loop, which had me meeting up with him about 5:00 p.m. on Saturday evening. The weather was a tad on the warm side, but even with that, the conditions were pretty favorable for running. No rain fell, as had been predicted — and had been my biggest fear.

In preparation I skipped the previous Friday's boot camp section to save my legs a bit. Besides that, I really wasn't all that prepared. Ed just made it seem rather ... can I say ... easy? He told me it would mostly be walking in the woods with a tiny bit of running interspersed and then times of politely looking the other way when he would be crying in misery. I hadn't been running much on my own up to that point. Besides a few days of boot camp during the week and long walks with Quixote and Jason (not on the beach, ha ha), I hadn't really pushed my body through any grueling workouts. However, the idea that it would be a lot of walking compelled me. I love walking. I love being out in the woods. I feel great when I can help someone out with a worthy cause. And when Ed's not talking about bad music, he can be an engaging conversationalist.

I arrived at Pinckney Rec Area with plenty of time to spare. I met Ed's son Brent and chatted with Caryn, who is probably one of the most sincere, friendliest people I've ever talked with. The crowds were pumped with electric tie-dye banners and signs. There was even a stage for a band. I was impressed with the turnout of people.

Ed had been having a good day, although he might say bad because he's one of those types who thinks running too fast can be a bad thing. Ah, those runners, so fickle. We met up slightly ahead of schedule and we were soon the only ones on the trail. The scenery was great. It's events like that that remind me how trail running beats the pants off road running or cement running or asphalt running. If you can't see or smell a car, you're going to enjoy yourself. Nature was showing off at her peak. The foliage was abundant and verdant. The pine needles littered the path like earth's best concocted cushion. But what was that smell? Ed though it was a skunk but after following behind him for a spell, I had my doubts. I think he was trying to create a diversion.

But then came his joke about a man pooping in his sleep in bed and I thought, Uh-oh, this is going to be a long 16. How can I possibly get out of this? As if that weren't enough, he started to wax on about Katy Perry's "talent." Hmmm ... this was going to be an exhausting day, and I wasn't even thinking about my legs!

Actually Ed showed a lot of grit and spirit and it was very inspiring. To think he already completed 48 miles before I even joined him was pretty impressive. He kept a fierce pace. I might have figured we'd be just walking but that's like saying Usain Bolt just jogs in the Olympics. That surprised me but I was determined to keep up. I felt like it was my duty to not complain, not badger him too much about how he was feeling and just be there to keep the pace and occasionally offer something slightly interesting to say.

However, my full 16-mile lap was not to be. I felt so upset when my knee initially started bothering me. I thought it was my heel lift, so I removed that. But the pain was still there. I tried to walk faster when Ed was jogging to avoid that stress, but that didn't help matters either. Not the ideal place for a pacer. I sorta hoped that shifting my balance or changing my stride would alleviate the growing splinters around my knee. Nothing was working and I was hugely dismayed. It finally became clear that I was going to have to punk out at an aid station and, boy, did I feel like a punk. But once Ed told me that he'd stick with me before he'd care about finishing the race, I knew I had to get out of there. If I really wanted to help him, then my best position would be off the trail. What kind of pacer forces her runner to hobble along with her? Not a very good one, I thought.

At the 10-mile marker with a knee of glass, I respectfully stepped off the trail and waved Ed on. I had no doubts that he would finish. And many hours later, he did. After I heard about how many times he threw up on that fourth loop once I bowed out, I felt pretty confident that I made the right decision at the right time. Sure, running 100 miles is pretty tough but running 16 with someone whose idea of conversation is Katy Perry's "talent" is rough too. I can't blame the guy though. Eating baked potatoes and Gu and throwing up repeatedly can do strange things to a person.