Stop here to vomit and get a dry shirt. Scolded by Christine for not drinking enough water. Christine applies some tiger balm and it seems to ease. After five hours the intense humidity, the cold, and terrain are starting to take their toll. The thought that I maybe unable to finish is a gnawing horror within me.
Some villagers pass by laden with huge baskets of firewood.
I think about how hard they must work to survive, and think how easy our lives are. I remind myself that ultra runs are about being disciplined and willing to endure pain with patience. I tell myself to keep moving onward. At one point a fellow with a mobile garden shop on the back of his bicycle wants me to buy a tree. I force myself up and shuffle off, followed like the pied piper, with the boisterous bedraggled bunch in tow.