In the future, I’m a runner
I watched a video about the Gobi March yesterday. The feeling of longing and nostalgia was overwhelming. Watching videos from ultramarathons or triathlons feels like coming home. It feels like that’s where I belong. Like if it was my obvious destiny.
It’s always been like that. I’ve been dreaming of completing the Ironman since I was a teenager. The feeling is only getting stronger.
And I don’t care about the competition. It’s all about the challenge. Everything seems great about this. From the planning to the suffering. And also - nature. Ultras are the perfect way to be in nature, to face the extreme, but in a very controlled environment. Which, as a woman, is a very important factor. I’d be way too scared to camp wild alone, but if I’m part of an event, even if I am actually alone at that very moment, somehow it feels more safe. I know logically it doesn’t make much sense, but still.
The problem is, I can’t run. I stumble over my own knees and can’t go faster than walking pace really.
Today, at last, I got tired of it. Of waiting. In my subconscious it’s inevitable that in the future I will be a runner. I can’t wait any longer. My first run. 3 km, hilly dirt road, average pace almost 9 min/km. I hope soon I’ll see these numbers and have trouble believing I used to be so weak and slow. Though already today, for the mere 25 minutes, it felt like home.