I ran 100km on Saturday.
Oh my, it was TOUGH. I’ve run ultras before, but never quite this far, and those extra few miles really made the difference. Obviously I wasn’t fully prepared (is anyone ever?) but, looking back, I think I’d done a lot of good. I didn’t have a lot of miles in my training, but I’d hammered the Pilates and kettlebell sessions; I’d really researched and experimented with my hydration and nutrition and all was good there, and my kit was well-worn and well-loved. But I guess I just found my limit – after about 54 miles I was mentally so over it. Thank goodness there wasn’t far to go at that point (comparatively) and I was still in fairly good shape – at that point I was oblivious to the blood blisters forming on my toes – so I pushed through to the end and even managed to smile, coming over the finish.
It’s a first for me – I have hurt, cried and felt so, so negative during a race before, but this was somehow different. This went on too long. So I found my boundary. It’s quite an impressive boundary and I am very proud of it, but I feel a bit odd – I’m not indestructible, I do have a limit, and that’s new for me. I don’t think I’m sad about it, I just feel different now. I just know more about myself now.
Here are some pictures of me ignoring the pain.