Is it Monday already? Sheesh, I could have used one more day of uninterrupted shut eye. Well my dears, the first of two big races is over, done, complete! It's a funny emotional mix of relief and anxiety as I determine what my next move will be.
I will be honest with you. Mentally, that race killed me. My spirit, which soared through training season, plummeted quickly the day of the race when the first round of pouring rain let loose before we even got out of the car. At four hours in, with 15 more miles to go - alone, wet, cold and tired - I had a serious talk with myself about what the hell I was doing out there. But I did it, I went out for more. And it ate me alive, but I did it. I finished. And I guess there is satisfaction in that. (And I guess I'm a true Ultra-Runner now.)
It's funny. When you decide to do something and give it your all, everything you've got because you figure it's got to be better on the other side than where you're currently at. You can't feel any worse? So you run to heal yourself because being idle will kill you. You run to prove if you can get through this, you can get through anything. You'll come out clean and reborn, shiny and new. You'll fill the void, the hole, the gap. You'll run so far nothing can get you and you'll win. You'll beat yourself; you'll beat the universe. But what if the opposite happens? What if you come out on the other side worse for wear? More aware of what you're running from rather than what you're running for. What if you finish the race but feel worse than when you started? What happens when you realize you're not as tough as you thought you were? Acutely aware that over three months and over 200 miles later, you're still not okay.
I guess you keep running.
*warrior edition
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