I don't know what possessed me or how I got myself into this, but I am going to run an ultra. Okay, so it's the tiniest ultra one can find, a 50K, but half of the time I am scared - I can barely finish 26 miles, what made me think 31 is no big deal?
To make things just a bit worse, I have not trained properly - not more than for a marathon, in any case. I got sick at the end of September, a cold, fever, sore throat, the usual. I prescribed myself lots of vitamin C and bedrest, and I managed to get rid of the fever and to put in some mandatory long runs, the biggest one a 20-miler. But I have not increased my weekly mileage a bit, and I have not completely outrun the illness.
Otherwise, I am excited - I am going to run an ultra, I am going to run an ultra. Okay, so technically I am not going to run this thing. I am going to run, walk, crawl, whatever it takes.
What it takes, I decided in the end, is fueling. I cannot do 50K on empty, as I did a couple of marathons, and I am so tired of getting queasy with gels and such, I switched over to real food. The New Mexican breakfst burrito with green chile. A little bit at a time. Each bite during walking breaks. Slow. Steady. The race has a nine hour cutoff. Plenty of time.
It's the Goblin Valley ultra-marathon
in Utah, October 23rd.
I am going to run an ultra.