An ambitious attempt at 100 miles(continued):
The first five miles always have the highest hurdles as if my body just isn’t ready and is giving my frontal cortex every rational reason to halt this delirious idea. My knees and ankles ache and I feel so tight despite the dynamic warm up and rolling dedicated to my pre-race ritual. Maybe today just isn’t a good day? A 10-mile run is more than sufficient lets just go ahead and call it. I push to the next aid station — I’ll quit there, that’s totally acceptable, I have done enough… my ankle hurts…my knee hurts… Then I get there, and the magical euphoria of the aid station rejuvenates me, and my moral is boosted just enough to make it past the aid station to the next one I can quit there… and the cycle continues.
I couldn’t possibly give an accurate assessment of the preceding 70 miles. It happens so fast and so slow all in one packaged memory; like the bits and pieces of snacks eaten at each rest stop the fragments of time saved in my minds photo-bank flash precarious moments that occurred between start and finish. The pounding in the pads of my feet- the swelling in the nail beds of my toes from the blisters; the compounding physical ailments encapsulated with triumphant moments of cyclical fists of food shoved back into my mouth. Around 50 miles I reached the halfway point in the dark of night; the tree line and grappling roots in the gravel only seen by waves of light projected a mere 20 meters into the abyss by my Petzl. I took a seat around the warm fire at the aid station content in ending my journey there; a successful 50-mile race on a random Saturday in the ghostly trails of New Hampshire. My breath cutting into the cold air, I sat on a log cut chair, and sipped on a pipping cup of vegetable broth; the only thing I could any longer stomach and agonizingly visualized the remaining 3.2 miles to my “warm” truck. Among the towering trees and pitch black your mind travels. It takes you on a journey far from where you are, in space and time. I reflected on life choices; the this then that’s; the if, and’, or buts. Who am I? What am I doing here? No, like what am I doing here? How old was I for that laser quest b-day party? That was the best birthday ever. What are these people doing here? What’s their life like. It’s scary out here; I hope these hills don’t have eyes…what am I supposed to do if I come across a ravenous animal on this trail…..
Stay tuned for part 3!
Source:
(This is a mirror of my article on medium.com/@Lifesachase)
nice ill read all these parts right now
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https://medium.com/@achasea2010/73-true-on-a-scale-of-100-miles-9140b4d176fc
lol yeah... im the author...im mirroring my own medium post, feel free to read it there too, i included a link
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