One of the hardest decisions I am currently making regarding this run is not whether to run – I've already passed that hurdle – or what to do if I can't run the whole way.
The hardest thing for me is to share it.
The whole idea of a run to me is enjoying the solitude. I do enjoy the occasional run with another human being, but my ideal run is long, quiet, and being completely alone.
I don't have any presumptions that I will be joined by anyone along the way. I have had an offer or two, but have always politely declined. This run is all about me. And the choice I am still considering (as of today) is to keep it that way.
Outside of the random reader who stumbled onto this blog (my sincere apologies), maybe five people outside of the interwebs know about my plans. Two or three know my intended route. Only I have thought about more than that. And I could run, anonymously, ignoring the honks and waves from passing drivers, enjoying the scenery and then later the agony, and getting completely absorbed with myself and my inner thoughts. And part of me would be very happy with that knowledge, passed along to no other person.
If I execute this blog to completion, posting about my thoughts and feelings regarding this run and other distractions, and moreover, publish it for the world to see, do I lose that intimacy? What do I gain from letting anyone into what is essentially a long workout? What do they (you) get out of it? And worse yet, in the moment of my proving myself to myself, what if no one cares? Is what I know enough?
If a man runs 40 miles and doesn't blog about it, does it make a sound? What if I ran in the forest? What if I ran in the forest and saw a tree fall, heard the sound, and then fell into a giant hole, never to be heard from again – did the tree still make that sound? Is there a blog about falling trees somewhere?
Pseudo-philosophical questions aside, the question still deserves asking: am I willing to make this run by myself, for myself, or do I need some external validation? I am still asking this to myself, even as I type another post. I've wrestled with pulling the plug on this project on more than one occasion, out of disgust with my own ego trip. And yet, I find my way back here, typing again. Maybe the writing and running are just different forms of catharsis. Maybe I am just a vain narcissist who likes writing smug blog posts.
I'm off to find a blog about falling trees. I've got to give that person some love.
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