The Memorial March is a unique experience that is so much more than a race. It is a 26.2 mile long ceremony to honor ordinary Americans and Filipinos who achieved the extraordinary. It was quite moving to meet and say thank you to genuine heroes and to remember those who have passed on. The day begins with a roll call of the departed and the presentation of the surrender flag of Bataan. The marchers then file past a small group of Bataan survivors and shake their hands in respect and admiration. In addition, service members who lost limbs in Iraq and Afghanistan participated in the march. You can see that this is no plain footrace.

The march (or race for some) then proceeds through the rugged terrain of southern NM. The course is very well marked and supported. Traffic is not an issue at all. The trail was sandy and rocky in some spots and was partly paved road in others. Demanding... sure, but not impossible.

The organization is superb. Enthusiastic volunteers man rest stops every 2 miles, there are medical aid stations every 4 miles, and the US Border Patrol supports the course with agents on ATVs for the last 10 miles. Marcher safety is a primary concern and is well addressed.

Finishers receive a certificate of completion and a commemorative dog tag. They are fitting souvenirs.

As a race I recommend the march based on its excellent organization. If you're interested in a PR, however, look elsewhere.

As an event, I wholeheartly recommend the march to anyone who respects the military services and wishes to honor generations of American heroes. If you feel uncomfortable in a military environment or an unabashedly patriotic setting then you should look for another event.

I will be back next year, combat boots and all.

It really makes you think about what the survivors went through when this happened to them.

This 57-year old woman walked her first marathon, after just a bit of training in prep for a later hike in the Grand Canyon. Of the two, this was the tougher.

But several things kept me going when I started feeling discouraged. Seeing one of the survivors at about the halfway mark inspired me. I realized he hadn't had the choice of whether or not to continue. I had tears in my eyes as I shook his hand. That motivated me.

Thinking about my son serving in Afghanistan at the time, and all the physical challenges he had endured during his years at West Point motivated me.

But even after all that inspiration, 5 miles before the finish line I felt I just couldn't make it any farther, and I almost got on the truck at one of the last aid stations. As I was unpinning my number to hand to a young soldier, he asked if I was hurt or my feet were blistered. I said 'No, I'm just very, very tired.' He encouraged me to go on and try to finish (assuring me there was no more sand!), which I did.

I have always been so grateful to that young soldier (who continually called me "ma'am") for encouraging me to keep going. If I hadn't, I know the minute I was on the truck I would have regretted it. And the feeling of exhilaration I had when I reached the finish line - even though it took me 12 hours - has never left me. My only regret was that the photographer had already gone.

The feeling of camaraderie and encouragement was so inspiring and motivating, that I plan to do the walk again. But I'll train better next time!

I did this event in 2000 and 2004 in military uniform. My only problems came from blisters. As previously mentioned, there is a tremendous feeling of camaraderie on the march. It is something everyone should do at least once, particularly while the real Death March survivors are still around.

This was my first marathon. I also decided to enter the heavy category with a 35-pound backpack. The course was beautiful, yet more demanding than anything I have ever done. The support staff was outstanding with medical support about every three miles or so. Water and Gatorade were available about every two miles. Seeing the veterans throughout the march was such a highlight of our trip to the desert. I suggest to anyone wanting to do a marathon...do this one.

This was my first marathon ever and while it probably wasn't a great idea to start out on Bataan, there couldn't be anymore facilities out there to help me along. I was told by anyone I talked to that was familiar with the race that it was much more difficult than I actually found it to be (they REALLY exaggerated). Friendly people, great weather and lots of water. The only downfall I would say is that there aren't many people around that area so there weren't very many spectators.

Bataan Death March was definitely my toughest and most difficult marathon ever. At the same time it offered a very unique experience of participating in the event that spiritually connected veterans of WW2 with young soldiers and not so young civilians like myself.

The course was very demanding, the volunteers fantastic and the unforgettable presence of the Bataan veterans made that day very special. The opening and the award ceremonies were particularly moving.

After I passed the halfway mark and was running down the paved road, I was greeted and cheered by hundreds of marchers hiking steadily uphill.

I finished Bataan (my 23rd marathon) in my worst time ever, above 4 hours. My marathoner's nightmare materialized as the famous, long and deep sand pit that slowed me down to a walk. However, when I finally crossed the finish line and was greeted by the Bataan veterans, I knew that 21st March 2004 would remain forever a day to remember.

I'd read the comments, I knew it would be very tough, that was no surprise. But this one you don't do for time, or to say you conquered it. You do it because it links you to brave men, many of whom died or saved others, doing something a whole lot harder than this is. And you'll be with a lot of people who feel exactly the same as you, reverently respectful of the Bataan heroes. Proud to be American.

I knew that this race would more than kick my butt, yet I chose to do it for several reasons: I come from a military family, and the meaning of this march courses through my veins; I would be able to visit a long-time friend who lives in Las Cruces; and this would be a real test of wills.

Living at sea level, I don't have a good way to train for an event like this. I started feeling light-headed by about the 4 mile mark. I kept having to take walk breaks. I kept having to wipe the sand out of my mouth. I could feel my skin searing. My legs felt like lead pipes after only 12 miles.

Whether I was walking or running, the volunteers at the aid stations were encouraging and enthusiastic. Many other marchers offered their words of encouragement and support, as did I to them.

Although I participated as an individual, and I was often not within spitting distance of another marcher, I was never alone. The spirit of the other marchers, the spirit of the Bataan survivors, was with me at all times pulling me through the sand and the heat and the hills.

If you can set aside your desire to 'place', and compete simply to test your body, mind and soul, this is THE race to do.

This is not a race to be first. There should be no I in this event. We can rate the course 4s and 5s all we want, but it's not about that. It's about sharing and camaraderie that only a very few will ever experience. It should be celebrated with the feeling of an undying love and gratitude to those who made the ultimate sacrifice and an everlasting commitment to those survivors, American and Philipino, who we are privileged to still be around. While there in ?02, I listened to some of their stories and was moved, but the most memorable event of my life took place the morning of the 'race' when the 'survivors' walked through and among us just before starting the event. I was privileged enough to shake hands with them, and pat them on the back and to also salute them for their courage and fortitude I can only dream of having. I will be there again this year (?04) in hopes of recapturing that feeling!