I was browsing Facebook when I saw an old friend from my days stationed at Great Lakes. He had a short post: "25 miles done. Halfway feeling ok."
I immediately looked where he was posting from, and then Googled ultramarathons in that area. Sure enough, there was a local ultramarathon called the "Ice Age Trail" that was going on that day. But I wasn't satisfied - I asked if that was the race he was running. He liked my post. I still wasn't satisfied.
Later on he posts, "More later but 50 miles in the books. Roughly 10 hours 16 minutes." Question answered - my first friend to run an ultramarathon.
Turns out that this wasn't his first, but his SECOND ultramarathon. Two fifty mile runs, as I imagine him gently striding through his own fortieth year on the planet. And I find myself intensely jealous.
Of what? There are plenty of square miles on the earth, and by no means am I the first person to contemplate running longer than marathon lengths. But why this reaction? I love this guy, who has gone with me to rock concerts, and awful Matrix sequels, and introduced me to Rockabilly (or was it hillbilly punk?). I should have nothing but admiration for his efforts.
And yet I think I already know the answer to that question. Not only is he running further, he's not boasting or bragging. Two quick lines on Facebook, is all. And this wasn't even his first race. I have a blog dedicated to one run, a year from now. Hell, I had an idea to dedicate every mile of my run to a different person, posting it all to Facebook and this blog. Why the fanfare? What am I looking for? What am I running for?
I have to run on that one for a bit.
I immediately looked where he was posting from, and then Googled ultramarathons in that area. Sure enough, there was a local ultramarathon called the "Ice Age Trail" that was going on that day. But I wasn't satisfied - I asked if that was the race he was running. He liked my post. I still wasn't satisfied.
Later on he posts, "More later but 50 miles in the books. Roughly 10 hours 16 minutes." Question answered - my first friend to run an ultramarathon.
Turns out that this wasn't his first, but his SECOND ultramarathon. Two fifty mile runs, as I imagine him gently striding through his own fortieth year on the planet. And I find myself intensely jealous.
Of what? There are plenty of square miles on the earth, and by no means am I the first person to contemplate running longer than marathon lengths. But why this reaction? I love this guy, who has gone with me to rock concerts, and awful Matrix sequels, and introduced me to Rockabilly (or was it hillbilly punk?). I should have nothing but admiration for his efforts.
And yet I think I already know the answer to that question. Not only is he running further, he's not boasting or bragging. Two quick lines on Facebook, is all. And this wasn't even his first race. I have a blog dedicated to one run, a year from now. Hell, I had an idea to dedicate every mile of my run to a different person, posting it all to Facebook and this blog. Why the fanfare? What am I looking for? What am I running for?
I have to run on that one for a bit.
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