It's about 5 PM. We've been hiking for 11 hours. We pass the Mile 25 marker. Only 1.2 miles left. I don't know if I can make it. An occasional ATV or military van passes by, carrying hikers who couldn't make it. Some of them were military. I knew they'd catch hell from their First Sergeants tomorrow.

One more mile. Both Georgia and I agreed we won't accept failure, and failure means not going the distance. There are several areas where we can take a shortcut, and it is tempting. But cheating is unacceptable to both of us. We both ran out of energy a mile-or-two back. Now we're reaching in deep somewhere that neither of us has been in years. We look at each other, each seeing the agony in the other's eyes. But each of us saw the determination that makes the other one click. We will not quit.

We're now walking along a long stone wall surrounding base housing. People are on the wall, cheering us on. I just want to lie down, but I know that if I even sit down, I won't make it to the finish line. I lean against the wall and stretch. Every joint, muscle and bone in my body

screams in agony. My vision blurs for a second. Georgia asks me if I'm OK. For some reason I thought that was a rather silly question. I look at her and spend a few calories of my energy reserve to tell her that life doesn't get better than this. She looks at me like I'm some kind of nut.

Only 1000 feet to the finish line. I thought I'd be become energized when I saw it, but there was no energy left. We're just plodding now, gut strength forcing one foot in front of the other.

One-hundred feet. It's getting dark outside (or I'm dying...hard to tell which). I see people at the finish line, but no relatives or white tunnel.

Ten feet left.

Georgia and I cross the finish line, holding hands. A General is there to shake our hands and congratulate us.

Georgia and I hug each other. I'm hurting all over. My legs-muscles are knotted up. I'm nauseated, exhausted beyond belief. I feel like I'm going to pass out. Then I remember a stooped old man along the side of the road as we walked through Hell, who shook my hand and said "Thank you." Now I think I understand. Suddenly, I'm not hurting so much. I'm just...proud.