The following is a mildly edited excerpt from my journal, which I wrote late last night (or early this morning if you want to get technical).
It’s after two in the morning. I just returned from my third half marathon in twenty-four hours. That’s about thirty-nine miles all said and done. I’m exhausted, but incredibly grateful for the ability to do stupid shit like this. I take absolutely none of it for granted. I’m acutely aware of how easily an unforeseen injury could bring me to an unwanted halt.
Running like this, that is to say, like a crazy person, reveals one thing to me with crystal clarity: the temporal nature of all things.
On my first run this morning, I felt great. I was fresh and well rested, ready to go. I hit my second run after work this evening. That one was less nice. I felt my lungs and heart rate far more than was comfortable. Upon completion, I sincerely doubted my ability to finish one more.
I began my third and final half marathon at just past midnight. I braced myself for the exertion and popped some Rungum in my mouth for a little caffeine boost.
The first two miles felt better than any portion of the day’s first two runs. Part of me thought, “The whole run will be this way.” Ha! Yeah…about that…
Here’s the thing, though; all the misery I experienced on that run was just as fleeting as the bliss of those first two miles. Nothing is eternal. Good and bad, it all ends the same.
I find great comfort in that.
And now that the exhaustion-induced nausea has worn off, I think I’ll eat some ramen and go to bed.
Jesse
11-27-17