The fact that I have a blog devoted (at least in part) to Ultrarunning may seem to indicate that I am a pretty darn good ultrarunner. Or at least experienced, confident, seasoned, savvy, etc., etc.
Or if my personal reaction/experience is any guide--and believe me that when I make this observation, I do so in all modesty--some of you readers may even in some small way hold me up on a (tiny) pedestal.
I say that because I know that from being an UltraList member for 10+ years and getting to “know” frequent posters via what they write, I sometimes begin to think of some folks as being a bit larger than life. I’ve attributed some additional positive qualities to certain people, then when they post something “out of character” (at least according to my standards) I feel kinda disappointed. Like they let me down or something.
Then sometimes when I actually meet in person one of my UltraList “heroes” I am likely as not to be slightly disappointed--he or she doesn’t seem larger than life, after all. They just seem, well, like me.
So, without me sounding like a jerk, let me dash any expectations that may be out there. I’m just a regular middle-of-the-pack runner. I'm getting older and slower. I race rather infrequently. I run only 100 miles a month. But I write about it here at the Mister Tristan blog, and that’s the only difference.
Take Tuesday this week for example. I telework on Tuesdays when I don’t have to be physically at the office for a meeting. I set my alarm an hour early so I could go for a run prior to firing up my laptop for the day. Before going to bed I knew it was going to rain but I planned to run anyway.
The alarm went off. I listened to the rain falling on the ferns outside my window. It was dark, the bed was warm, the bride was curled up beside me, and the rain was a soft patter.
I made the conscious decision to blow off the run and drift back to sleep, luxuriating in the sensuous moment. I can run tomorrow.