Sweat pouring off my brow, I feel like the fat kid running to be first in line at the tuckshop. Only 40km down in the North Face 100 ultramarathon, and my heavy legs are cramping as I try to comprehend another one-and-a-half marathons to go. I’ve gone out too fast and now, with my head spinning, it is no longer about finishing, but surviving. Oh yeah, and kicking my best mate Justin Jones’s butt. I don’t care how long it takes me to complete the race, just as long as I’m in front of him...