Table of Contents
Worldwide Acclaim for Dean Karnazes andUltramarathon Man:
The perfect escapist fantasy for couch potatoes and weekend warriors alike.Kirkus Reviews
Deans masochism is a readers pleasure.Publishers Weekly
Makes the extraordinary look easy.GQ
Iron man Dean Karnazes is no mere mortal.Time
There is clearly something Nietzschean in Karnazes makeup... that whatever doesnt kill you makes you strong.
Los Angeles Times
Fascinating.Sports Illustrated
Full of euphoric highs.The New York Times
Jaw-dropping.Sam Fussell, author of Muscle
Buzz book.People
The indefatigable man.Esquire
Passionate.San Francisco Chronicle
Karnazes is revolutionizing [ultrarunning], inspiring many weekend warriors to take it up a notch.... Money and fame aside, Karnazes [is] motivated by primal need more than anything else.Outside
Eye-popping.The Associated Press
Run, Karnazes, run!FHM
Ultra-inspirational.Odyssey (Greece)
[Dean is] like a comic-book superhero who remains undercover by day, every bit the unremarkable family man.
The London Daily Telegraph
A real-life Forrest Gump.... [Karnazes] has pushed his body to limits that are beyond masochistic. Theyre inhuman.
Newsday
Super-human.The Boston Globe
Superstar.The Oregonian
Superman.Gazzetta dello Sport Week (Italy)
Ultrarunning legend.Mens Journal
The ultimate ultrarunning specimen.Runners World
One of the sexiest men in sports.Sports Illustrated Women
The undisputed king of the ultras, who has not only pushed the envelope but blasted it to bits.The Philadelphia Inquirer
A short run with Dean could land you far from home.
The Washington Post
This book is dedicated
to my sister, Pary,
who always encouraged
me to follow my heart.
Part One
Chapter 1
The Long Road to Santa Cruz
Sleep is for wimps.
Christopher Gaylord,
underground ultra-endurance legend
Napa Valley, California Friday evening, September 29, 2000
It was approaching midnight as I wove up the deserted road, wearing nothing more than a pair of shorts and a sleeveless vest, a cell phone tucked in a pocket of my pack. It had been hours since Id last had contact with humanity, and the night air was silent and warm. By the light of the full moon, I could see grapevines along my path and hear them rustle in the breeze. But I wasnt fully appreciating the view; I kept thinking about food. I was famished. Earlier tonight, Id eaten a bowl of macaroni and cheese, a large bag of pretzels, two bananas, a PowerBar, and a chocolate clair. But that was more than three hours ago. On big occasions like this one, I needed more food. And I needed it now.
My body fat is less than 5 percent, so theres not a whole lot of reserve to draw upon. My diet is stricthigh protein, good fats, no refined sugar, only slowly metabolized carbsbut tonight I had to be reckless. Without massive caloric bingesburgers, french fries, ice cream, pies and cakesmy metabolism would come to a screeching halt and Id be unable to accomplish my mission.
Right now, it craved a big, greasy pizza.
The problem was, I hadnt had access to food in the past few hours. I was heading west through the remote outskirts of Sonoma, well off the beaten path, no food in sight. Proceeding farther from civilization, Id watched the signal indicator on my cell phone diminish to the point of no reception, severing my contact with the outside world. Midnight was nearing, and I was ravaged.
The night air was dry and fresh, and, despite my hunger, I was able to enjoy the tranquillity of the surroundings. It was a rare moment of serenity in an otherwise frenetic life. At times I found myself mesmerized by the full moon illuminating the hillsides.
At others all I could think about was finding the next 7-Eleven.
When I left the office early today, I received backslaps and hoots of encouragement from several co-workers, most of whom are aware of my other life. One minute I was all business, discussing revenue forecasts and corporate strategy in my neatly pressed Friday casuals. The next I was jamming out the door like a wired teenager, psyched about the upcoming weekend festivities. Id learned to switch from work mode to play mode in the span of several paces. I liked my job plenty, but I loved what I was about to do.
At 5:00 P.M., I pushed a button on my stopwatch and the mission was afoot, so to speak. It started in the bucolic little town of Calistoga at the northern reaches of the Napa Valley. The afternoon was warm and cloudless as the townsfolk milled about stoically. One guy tipped his hat and said Howdy as I passed, and a lady sweeping the sidewalk with a reed broom stopped and smiled. They were friendly enough, though judging from the peculiar looks I received it was clear I was being sized up: We know hes not here to cause trouble, but what, exactly, is he doing?
Alongside me in our VW campervan (aka the Mother Ship) was my family: my parents, my wife, Julie, and our two kids, Alexandria and Nicholas. The Mother Ship would be our operational brain center for the next three days. That, however, implies a level of sleekness that didnt exist. The Mother Ship was more like a roaming funhouse, cluttered with maps, toys, travel magazines, binoculars, and homemade bug-catching jars. Between the seats were pieces of Fig Newtons and stale Goldfish dusted with beach sand. It was the perfect anti-feng shui environment, and we loved it.
Macaroni and cheese from a box was easy to cook on the Mother Ships small stove, and thats what wed had for dinner tonight. Because of my two lives, we didnt eat together as a family as often as I liked, so I treasured this mealdehydrated cheese or not.
We were like any other happy family having dinner together, only we were sitting on the guardrail on the side of a highway. The kids didnt seem to find it strangethey didnt know any different, reallyand my parents had grown accustomed to sipping wine from a paper cup while balancing on the narrow railing as cars whizzed by. There wasnt too much traffic on the road tonight, so we engaged in pleasant dinner conversation.
I had seconds and thirds, and then I finished the rest of my wifes meal. Dessert followed: two bananas, a PowerBar, and a chocolate clair.
I hate to dine and ditch, I said, not pausing long enough to sit down, but Ive got to be moving along.
Daddy, are you going to be gone all night again? my daughter Alexandria asked. Her big brown eyes filled with enthusiastic curiosity, as if trying to understand why her daddy had this odd yearning that wasnt shared by many other daddies.
Yes, sweetie, I am. But well have breakfast together tomorrow morning.
Although that conversation was just a few hours ago, it now seemed like a long time back. Nearing midnight, they would now all be happily asleep inside the Mother Ship as I made my way through Sonoma and continued west toward the town of Petaluma.
