Thursday Is Here
8pm. First four miles. The start of 48 hours that we’re genuinely not sure we can finish.
Pam and I have been saying that out loud to people this week — telling them what we signed up for, watching their faces, and then laughing about it afterward together. The reactions have been something. Some people think we’re crazy. A few have gone quiet in that particular way that means they’re doing the math and don’t like what they’re coming up with. Some are wishing they could join. A handful actually are — showing up for parts of it, running a few intervals alongside us before heading back to their normal sleep schedules like sensible people.
We’re not sensible people today. And honestly, it’s been kind of fun.Most of the prep came down to two things: food and gear.What do you eat when you’re running four miles every four hours for two days straight? How much? When? What works at 8pm tonight looks different from what you can stomach at 4am Saturday. We’ve been thinking through this more than feels reasonable for two people who also have jobs and a life. Electrolytes, real food versus easy food, what the body actually wants at hour 30 versus hour 6. There’s no perfect answer. We made educated guesses and we’re hoping our stomachs cooperate.The gear conversation has been similar. What to wear for the 8pm run versus the midnight one versus the 8am one. Shoes. Hats. Rain gear. What you want to have ready when you stumble back in from a 4am interval with two hours before the alarm goes off again. Getting the logistics right doesn’t guarantee anything. But getting them wrong at hour 20 is a problem you’d rather not have.So we sorted it out. Methodically, mostly. With some second-guessing along the way.
One thing settled without much debate: our son is doing the overnight shifts with Pam. The midnight, 4am runs — she’s not going out in the neighborhood alone at those hours. He’ll be out there with her. That’s not a small thing. It’s also just a good kid showing up for his parents doing something ridiculous, which feels about right.
Pam and I are anxious excited going into tonight.
Maybe a little giddy, if I’m being honest. There’s something about choosing a hard thing together that changes the energy between you — not toward tension, but toward something lighter. Like you’ve both agreed to jump and you’ve been standing at the edge comparing notes, and now it’s time.
We’re not doing this identically. She’s running when she can, walking the rest. I’m attempting to run every mile. We’ll be at different paces, finishing intervals at different times, recovering separately before the next one starts. But we’re on the same challenge, pointing the same direction, for the next 48 hours.
That’s the marriage piece I keep coming back to. Not that you do everything together in the same way at the same pace. But that you’re in it — the same hard thing, the same commitment, the same willingness to find out what happens when you don’t quit. That’s what matters. Not the lockstep. The alongside.
We don’t know how this ends. That’s still true. The 50/50 odds haven’t moved just because we sorted the food and packed the gear.
But the challenge was already doing something before we took the first step. The conversations it started. The reactions it surfaced. The way Pam and I have been a little more awake to each other in the prep than we sometimes are in ordinary weeks. That’s not nothing. That’s the point showing up early.
The finish matters. The finish isn’t the whole story.
Tonight at 8pm we start finding out the rest of it. Then midnight. Then 4am. Then 8am. All the way through to Saturday at 4pm.
We’ll try to post updates along the way. And if you’re running your own four miles every four hours somewhere out there, let us know. The challenge is the same wherever you are.
Food sorted. Gear packed. Nerves alive. Ready enough.
Let’s go.
