were ready for breakfast

At the thirty-mile mark in Half Moon campground, Martimano and Juan .

Kitty Williams slapped thin bean burritos into their hands. They ran on, chomping contentedly, andwere soon swallowed up by the thick woods around Mount Elbert.

Ann raced in a few minutes later, pissed off and shouting. “Where’s Carl? Where the hell is he?” Itwas now 8:20 in the morning and she was ready to shuck weight by dumping her headlamp andjacket. But she was so far under record pace, her husband hadn’t yet made it to the aid station
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.

To hell with him; Ann kept her night gear, and disappeared on the trail of the invisibleTarahumara.

At mile 40, the crowd milled around the ancient wood firehouse in the tiny cabin village of TwinLakes, checking their watches. The first runners probably wouldn’t show up for another, oh, about—“There she is!”

Ann had just crested the hill. Last year, it took Victoriano seven hours and twelve minutes to getthis far; Ann had done it in less than six. “No woman has ever led at this point in the race before,”