Romanticize
Today, I got asked why triathlons appeal to me. Now, I haven't done one of those yet, but I've done some ultra-running so I extrapolated. After paraphrasing a few things I'd heard from others, I said "I don't know if it can be verbalized. It either hits you or it doesn't, and you got to try it for yourself to find that out".
It, of course, hits a lot of people – they do it for health, for bragging rights, for the travel, for catharsis, for discipline, to push themselves, and much more than that. But it's also well-known that endurance sports can be addictive, which is quite clear from the hordes of ex-addicts you see in the circles. After years of weed, coke, smokes, or alcohol, nothing else hits you the same way.
I started running because I got tired of sitting on my ass during COVID (2022). 10k soon became a 50k and a 100k within a year. Somewhere along the way, I turned it into an stupid game. Can I go further? Can I go further faster? Can I go further faster on tougher terrains, bad weather, and limited oxygen?
And with all of that came its flipside – I used it as a stand-in for other things in my life. Bad workday? Cope with a run. Good day? Celebrate with a run. Feeling down? Run. Anxious? Run faster.
That's how people go down the deep end, when they depend on one thing to guide them through the rest of their life. It's no surprise that this age of social disillusion coincides with the craze of run-clubs and ironman races (ironmen?).
But to come back to my own story, how do I see it after being away for years due to injuries?
To be honest, it has been great. At first, it took a while for the hurt to simmer down, then it became exactly what I needed. These two years have been eventful, to say the least. So many good and worthwhile things have happened to me. They've also exposed most (if not all) of my weaknesses, and I've had to find new ways to deal with that. It hasn't always been healthy, but I've came around – repeatedly. I've circled back closer to my previous self – fast, foolish, and fearless.
Now all I remember 2022 for, are the things that made it beautiful. Running across majestic terrains, experiencing every sensation in the full. Climbing mountains I didn't think I could scale, slipping and falling, giggling like teenage girls with 40 year-old strangers – almost childlike.
I learnt to laugh while shitting bricks inside. As importantly, I learnt to make others laugh. Everybody is equal in the mountains, from a navyman to a shopkeeper and a mllionaire. I remember giving away my energy gels to a guy who looked like he was ready to take a tumble down the mountain. Later in the race, he would overtake and finish in front of me. I was so pissed at myself, but he still calls me every now and then.
In the last two years, I have found words to describe what draws ME to ultra-running – the romance of it. I am a romantic, I really want to believe I'll become one with the things I love. I know I won't. But ultra-running give you the perfect setting for it – beautiful sights, passionate people, cinematic camaraderie, livewire tension, and the illusion of control.
If you really think about it, no other sport takes you to remote mountaintops where less than a fraction of humanity has ever set foot. No other sport requires the kind of mind-body integration that endurance sports do – stay in control and regret not giving it your all OR push too hard and burn out. Sometimes, your girlfriend paints you a sunflower on your cap. Most times, they take great photos of you (and make you buy it). And finally, the finest of all – eating your first morsel of real food after treating your body like a rental for days. S familiar friend that gently ushers you back into your regular life.
See? It's way too easy to romanticize shit like that.
Exactly how I romanticize my blogposts changing lives one day.
