was nowhere near guaranteed. Its a seemingly vertical wall to the valley below and then a couple miles of dirt road to the turnaround at Winfield. 50 miles done, now I had to do it again.

Thank goodness for another runner (“Greeley”) who suffered with me as we did our about face and stepped toward home. Hope Pass 2, and another four hours on steeps in the sporadic hail, with a Flight for Life chopper trying to take someone to Denver probing the ridge line squalls and circling around. Several near complete meltdowns later, and I was back at Twin Lakes - wet, cold, dark and actually a little scared - 40 miles to go. My boys who paced me from here saved me, no question – brother Josh, and Hugh and Brian. They kept me walking when I could not run, which was frequently, and they forced me to take in molecules of food, which given the nausea, I would not have done on my own.

Out of Twin Lakes with Brian was surreal – the night was just in full bloom, runners were scarce and everything was SUPER quiet. Walked all upslopes, and lots of flats, and by the time we got to Halfmoon aid station, it was after midnight and my running days seemed to be over: All I could do was walk, and Hugh had to stay on me to keep up anything more than about 1.5 to 2 miles per hour. At the Fish Hatchery aid station, about 2 something a.m., it was cold like it gets when the last bit of heat is gone into the night sky, which at this point seemed like it was covered in more stars than space. Nice stars notwithstanding, I was done: I told the guys “This is not even fun at this point.” All I could think about was laying down and closing my eyes on my bed at home, under a down comforter – but, that wasn’t gonna happen. So my brother Josh and I headed up Sugarloaf mountain, 23 miles from home. It was surreal – I actually started to fall asleep a few times while shuffling up the rocky powerline access road. It lasted nearly 2 hours, and more than once it began to look like I would not make it back to Leadville, nevermind making the cutoff.

I could not eat anything and I was quickly running low on gas. Josh basically pulled my mind up the mountain and my body came with it. When we crested the ridge and started down the other side, I knew the serious climbs were basically over, and that bought me about 20 minutes of faith, which was all I needed, because about then the nausea went away and I ate a candy bar – instantly felt 10 times better. About 10 minutes after that, the sun began to rise in the east – just a hint of glow, but it was undeniable – I was gonna survive the night, and if that happened, well – might just roll into Leadville on time. Scooted down the last bit of trail feeling about as good as I had in 9 hours, and into Mayqueen just under 14 miles from the end. From there, Hugh and I hit an amazing 7 miles along the north shore of Turquoise Lake, facing the sun, on rolling trail that I'll bet really flows when your feet aren’t in powder form.

We were power hiking at about 4 miles per hour and I figured that would get me in with about 20 minutes to spare. About 4 miles into the lake tour, a guy who sure did seem to know what he was talking about came at us from the other direction – he said “Come on guys, your 7 miles from the finish and the last 2 miles will take you forever, get going! Run while you can!” Oh yes, I forgot the nice early, gentle downhill would now seem like a cruel joke of a climb on the return. So – Hugh began to run and I followed. I was good for about a quarter to half mile at a time in an actual run, probably about a 9:00 - 9:30 pace (felt like a 6:15 pace).

By the time we hit Boulevard, the long rocky road back to town, I felt we could surely make it, and when we hit the pavement 1 mile from town, I knew it. All four of us (last mile, unlimited pacers) walked the last bit of pavement because the blisters on the balls of my feet were getting pummeled by the hard surface. About 200 ft. from the end, I hobbled/jogged to the tape – 29 and a half hours after I left, and 30 minutes to spare. I checked out with medical, and sat down in the shade. About 20 seconds later, every single part of me began to hurt. I poked at some huevos rancheros with the boys, stole the use of a coffee shop bathroom marked “customers only” and called my wife Pam and son Sam, who were tickled pink. At the awards ceremony I got my first belt buckle - a very happy thing. I slept in the car on the way back to Denver, literally unable to make anything like a sudden move, and then laid on Hugh’s couch, ate burritos and drank beer watching football until 8:30 p.m. – when I was covered up in sleep.

One thing my friend Hugh told me during the beer and football sort of summed it up. He spent a lot of time at aid stations waiting for his shift pacing, awake and watching the whole thing play out, and he said he was amazed at all the runners – amazed to see that they were all everyday people – moms, dads, gray hair, no hair, plumbers and scientists and teachers. All there to chase their own adventure through the sky. He said it seemed like an internal thing, which he thought was wonderful. I think Brian and Josh felt the same, and the best part of the whole deal is that I could tell that every one of them is about to take up trail running on the regular. Cool.

Read Matt's bio and meet our other newest race team member, Stephen Taylor >

Read an interview with Hardrock 100 winner and Patagonia sponsored athlete Krissy Moehl on "The Cleanest Line" >

Start planning now for the 2008 StumpJump 50K (2007 race is sold out) >