The 200-mile relay race

Last year at this time, a few friends and embarked on the 200-mile relay race from Gettysburg, Pa., to Washington, D.C. Called the American Odyssey Relay, it's dubbed by runners the 24-hour race. (Except it took us closer to 36 hours, but who cares? We finished!

Anyway, that race pushed all 12 runners to push themselves to the limit mentally, physically and emotionally. You looked at the stars differently as you ran beneath them in the dark, screaming on your fellow teammate. You saw the sunrise in all of its pure glory as it rose above the Antietam Battlefield. You were one with the world, while your muscles screamed beneath you begging to just .... stop ... already.

And it was one of the best times of my running career. It was also before I experienced the most sorrow I've ever felt.

Brent and I are volunteering this year, since we've been blessed with little Amelia. I hope to be crammed into a stinky van with five other runners in 2011. In the meantime, we'll be cheering on The Fighting 69th from Shepherdstown, W.V. Although we're volunteering from 5 to 8 tomorrow morning, we'll be leaving York around 3 a.m.

PS. A fellow teammate snapped this picture as I headed out on my first leg of the race. The hill grade was nearly 65 percent, and it was straight-up hill. I have to admit that I'm not missing this leg.