Someone further down this road

There is always someone further down the road.

Not in a one-upmanship way, but in simple fact.

I’m a bit hungry, but they are actually starving.

I hurt my back, they slipped a disc so bad they were on morphine and hoped for surgery.

I had a small tear in a tendon in my foot, they ripped their Achilles clean off the bone.

There is always someone more broken than you. It helps, because there is that tiny dose of positivity in there. It doesn’t sound positive, but it is.

It could be worse.

It works the same with distance.

You run 5km, they’re doing the half marathon.

You get to half marathon, and they’re doing the full.

You decide to challenge yourself with a marathon and there are people using your challenging race as recovery runs from their Ironman, their 100km race, their 240km race.

You run in the heat of summer, from North Dandalup to Dwellingup.

So it’s a bit hot, but it could be worse. It could be Badwater.

Now that’s hot.

But eventually you hit a limit, where you are comfortable to stop at.

I’m not running further than the Kep 75 km race.

I’ll do the Waterous Trail 50 miler, but not the 100 miler.

I’ll do this, but only up to that.

A couple of days ago I read Bernadette Benson’s blog post about training for the Montane Yukon Arctic Ultra. It’s 304 miles through snow dragging a sled. Bernadette has calculated that the checkpoints will be roughly every 18 hours. When she reaches each one they will give her a single meal and boiling water. At three of the eight checkpoints she can retrieve from drop bags provisions for the next 36-48 hours.

She’s learning what accidental actions may cause her death.

I’m still stuck at Nothing further than the WTF 50 miler. I’m very happy there.

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