"Will you run Hellgate?" Virginia asks.
I ask myself that at least every other day. The past 3 or 4 days my legs didn't loosen up until they'd beaten out 4 miles or so. Overtraining? Not really, unless you count the 20 hilly miles on Thursday, followed by 8 on Friday plus a hike to Apple Orchard Falls, and then about 6 hours standing or walking on Saturday. Oh, and distributing a load of manure on Sunday after running 4 miles, 8 miles on Monday, and 4 miles up Thunder Ridge Tuesday followed by several hours of cutting firewood and hauling a load of 6-8 foot logs a couple hundred feet to my Dodge Ram. Maybe those log lifts helped make my feet so heavy today.
I hear your miniature violins playing. Cut them off, conductor! I'm not asking for sympathy. Some of the Hellgate registrants may be plodding away their 120-mile weeks. This dabbler refuses. Call me a cross-trainer if you wish. I'd rather write a poem I like, plant a few square feet of winter wheat, and prepare for the Arrowhead's January concert than run another 65 miles.
I'm putting my trust in an old friend, veteran of more than 100 ultramarathons, who insists you don't need to run more than 20 miles at once to prepare for an ultra. So John, may I stop? I now have three 18-milers, a 22-miler, a 20-miler and a 28-miler notched in my belt. And seven 50+ mile weeks.
No, not quite ready. Still almost a month of training to go. And I've got to try out a miner's light in the dark. December 11 is a week after the new moon. I hope it's a very bright sliver, with no clouds in the sky. Who will talk to me to keep me sane? That's the big question.
The Bowman Women; A Work In Progress
1 week ago