Warning: This Story Isn't For Everyone (Especially you, Mom).

I preface my race report from the Ice Age trail by stating that this isn't the farthest race I have ever run by a longshot: I've done Ironman, a 50 miler, multiple other 50k's as well as seven half ironman's.

That being said, I truly do not think I have ever suffered like I did today.

I am not sure what went wrong; it could have been the flight, perhaps the two hour time difference or maybe the fact that for whatever reason I got virtually no sleep the past two nights. It also might have something to do with the fact that I did minimal training for this race. But regardless, I just didn't feel good today and I knew at around mile seven or so that it was going to be a very, very long day.

And so it was. Fortunately for me, my main man Payro is very fit and I was able to follow his lead. The course features a very hilly 6.7 mile out and back section, followed by two nine fairly hilly nine mile loops. That's 31 miles in total for all you counting at home.

The first 13.7 passed without much fanfare, except for the fact that by the time we hit the first nine mile loop I felt like absolute crap. At around 15 I stopped to pee -- and this is where the story takes an ugly turn, y'all -- and was mortified to see that I was peeing blood. Now this has happened to me two or three times in the past, but generally it occurs POST run. And it was never quite as "umm "red' as this time. Disconcerting would be an understatement; I was quasi freaking out.

I ran the first nine mile loop and felt like crap the entire time, which was compounded by the fact that I peed blood two more times in the ensuing hour and a half. For the first time in my racing career -- one which literally spans hundreds of races -- I gave very serious consideration to dropping out. I felt like crap, was peeing blood and was becoming overwhelmed by nausea/bloating to boot. It wasn't pretty.

Anyway, I stopped at the 22 mile aid station and had a brief conversation with the doctor. He didn't know what to tell me. He asked if I had any other physical maladies and I asked him if cancer counted. He asked if I was serious and I said I was semi serious. The dude looked at me like I was from another planet and said that he thought I could keep going.

And so I did. I ran the last nine mile loop with Payro, and by this point I was just holding on for dear life. Words cannot express how crappy I felt. We soldiered on and to his infinite credit, he stayed with me the entire time, despite the fact that he's super fit and could have taken off at any time. I locked on to his heels and we did our thing: walk the big hills, but run everything else. We hit the 29.5 mile mark and I was really losing it, but the end, thankfully, came quickly.

And so we finished in 5:30, which despite all of the above, is a darn good time. It took me a while (a long while to recover) but now that it's over, I am really glad that I hung in there.

If ultrarunning is nothing else, it teaches a lesson in perseverance.

That said, I think I've had enough perseverance for a long, long while.