I was 2 miles into a my 15 mile long run and feeling pretty good. Two older gentlemen rode up alongside me on the paved bike trail, they were riding short bikes, you know, the ones where you lay back and your legs stretch out in front of you ensuring that your back will be sore the next day. We shared the pleasantries of a wave, and they said to me, “You’re a serious runner, aren’t you?” That struck me as odd, since i don’t feel very serious, no more than the average runner. Okay, I do have my sights set on this whole idea of an ultra. (That’s 50 miles still, right?) I have only just come to grips with that number. And by grips, I mean I’ve been able to stow that idea deep in my brain and prevent it from bubbling to the surface and giving me panic attacks. But every runner has that challenge mileage that they’d like to do but seems just a bit out of reach. I don’t feel any more serious to be where I am now and having the goal distance of 50 miles, than I was two years ago when I was happy to just be able to finish 3 miles. Running is funny like that, the more you do it, and the more consistent you are with it, the more capable you are to finish longer distances. However, as I looked down at my survivalist style pack with hoses and straps and pockets for everything, I could see the two older gentlemen’s point. I sure looked serious, even though my pack was bright pink, so I replied, “Serious enough!”
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AuthorI'm a runner, just like you, discovering if I can do the impossible. Archives
December 2015
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