Some places are better equipped for running. After China and Mongolia, running through Japan was luxurious. The streets were immaculately clean, the countryside lush green, the air fresh and 7-11 stores appeared on every corner open at any hour selling ice, cold drinks and an array of delicious snacks. We didn’t always know what we were eating or drinking, so 7-11 trips provided not only nourishment but culinary adventure (exactly the sort of stimulation you need at 4am). Equally shocking I found were the drivers, who maneuvered with pedestrian-awareness, abided traffic lights and stop signs and allowed you to cross the street without sprinting. I found a new appreciation for crosswalks.

But, in Japan on Day 59 I reached my limit. In the most humid weather we had had yet, and feeling exhausted even before I set out running, the pain in my right calf was too much to bear—I struggled in, stifling back tears and walked straight passed Paul and Heiko who had come to clap me in. So furious and exhausted, I couldn’t even talk. Surely it would not have come to this were it not for the two double shifts in one week—where two times we ran 20 miles in less than 24 hours—on top of minimal sleep, and a charged travel schedule. After I had cooled off a bit and limped back to the car, Doc took one look at me. “You’re not running tomorrow,” he said. I felt tremendous relief.

Several days off and a visit to Foot Solutions in Las Vegas, where pedorthist Paul set me up with heel lifts, arch supports and new shoes (generously offering these free of charge!), I was back running. Not as before, but with a new stride (using more of my forefoot than the ball of my foot), and at a considerably slower pace. The pain is no longer excruciating, but manageable, and so I push on knowing that the end is now in sight.