They say you should do something that scares you every once in a while. Something out of your comfort zone. This Saturday, I'm about to try something that's about three light years away from that zone.
This Saturday, I'm about to try and run a 100-mile ultra.
I feel like I know nothing about running anymore. I feel like my training has been so inconsistent and random that I have no idea what I can do or how far I can go. I feel unsure if I can chew all of that big bite. I am worried, nervous. To be totally honest, I'm scared shitless.
They call us virgins. Runners who've never crossed a 100-mile finish. Some envy us for the discovery we're about to make, others think we've gone batshit crazy and need an intervention. My soul trembles at the mere idea of the sheer distance this represents, and my spirit doubts.
But sometimes, for a short moment, a warm wave of something rolls across my body. I think it's hope. It's a dream, an idea that maybe, maybe if I stick to my goal and grind away, happily, mile after mile, some sort of miracle of endurance will happen.
I will be surrounded by the absolute best people in the sport, after all. I will cross the path of people who inspire me in unspeakable ways. My spirit is accompanied by roaming souls of legends, ancient blessings and benevolent thoughts for the four corners of the world. I'm a lucky man.
Saturday, I will draw every last atom of inspiration I have gotten from all of you, in many different ways. I will spend long hours by myself, connecting with the ones who give me the strength, energy and resolve to move me forward and elevate my will.
Saturday, I will follow the sun and the moon through a complete cycle in the magnificent desert, through moments of elation and despair, vitality and exhaustion. But no matter what comes my way, I will keep taking a step forward. And all of you will be with me.
I will keep going.
I'll see you on the other side.
