pacing is sogrueling and thankless

A tough pacer, consequently, can save your race; a sharp one can save your life. Too bad forMartimano, then, that the best he could hope for was that the shaggy goofball he’d met in townwould actually show up—and could actually run.

The night before, Rick Fisher had brought the Tarahumara to a prerace spaghetti dinner at theLeadville VFW hall to see if he could recruit a few pacers. It wouldn’t be easy; , usually only family, fools, and damn good friends let themselves get talkedinto it. The job means shivering in the middle of nowhere for hours until your runner shows up,then setting off at sunset for an all-night run through wind-whistling mountains. You’ll get bloodon your shins, vomit on your shoes, and not even a T-shirt for completing two marathons in asingle night. Other job requirements can include staying awake while your runner catches a nap inthe mud; popping a blood blister between her butt cheeks with your fingernails; and surrenderingyour jacket, even though your teeth are chattering, because her lips have gone blue
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