The Marathon

After that horrible, terrible, embarrassing climb on Devil’s Highway, the next couple of days went kind of… okay. And fast too.

We were pretty much running that camp by ourselves now—getting up, making the fire, cooking the food, breaking down the shelters, and everything in between. D.J. and I even got an extra tag each for putting up Pittman’s and Fish’s tents. Everything seemed to be pretty much smooth sailing.

I still felt bad for Arnie, getting kicked out like he did, but you know what? Because of him, I think we all worked even harder. Nobody wanted to get the boot this time.