I would never ever do a race for 4 days where each and every single day the lenght of distance is more than a marathon. Ultra. 196 km total. Mofo spring weather. PMS. Just adding to the fun. So I just did it.
Will never ever do a race for 4 days running 196km and a bit more in total. Maybe an ultra of max 100 at once, m a y b e. One day.
It hurts mentally. It hurts physically. I wonder whether I will ever be able to put on opentoe sandals. Ever. Esthatics.
Feelings, pain in the extreme level, questioning ourselves why we even thought we could do this. In an extreme level. So we just did it.
It’s not the speed. It’s more like slow-mo of everything, something like seeing myself at age of 90, or 80 or 70 hope not earlier. Though I kept running. It’s suffering, every move, it’s tiring. Waking up day after day to have breakfast run to the toilet because digesting system is so messed up from the gels, isos and basically any kind of food getting in comes out in a sec. Hope I loose weight I pray all the way through, make it a win-win for myself, however I still eat like a pig, pig-me weekend. Need the energy. Afterwards I find out I do this my way as well – gaining instead of losing. Gaining experiment, gaining pounds, gaining even more questions rather than the wisdom upon finishing.
Post-race depression checked in sooner than actually realizing what I have done. What we had done. With M once again. New together memories to add. Keeping race bibs to our memorylane diaries rather than movie admit-ones. Those too, for fun anyways…of shitty movies.
In order to run together. Yourself, your speed, your suffer, your own non-willingness to continue. To even wake up and put your shoe on, tie your laces, line up for the start. You do it for yourself, but also, you do it for ourselves. For the other. You stand up because the other seems to step down, you push the other further by sacrifying your own pain and non-willingness. You keep pushing and by that giving some of the own power to the other, though you take the other’s power to give some power. Understandable? For the ones experimenting such maybe. Never letting the other behind nor be kept behind.
Individualism. 100+ women finished the race, same as men participants. We didn’t look all like athletes in fact we were women out there, some of us looked like ladies never ran more than 5k, but in fact they just ran 196 km. It was not about speed nor racing. We were like family, we talked along the way, heart rate never reached peak nor max in any kind, though our feet looked and looks more like a professional ballet dancer’s nowadays.
After every day, after every run, after every 5 hours of monotone one foot forward to the next we rushed back to the hotel, crew mates accompined, feeling tired and weightless, salty and miserably happy to finish the day finally to rush into the cold water for some more suffer in order to ease the burning in our legs, dinner to survive with a glass of riesling -no name, no taste, just for the routine I guess-, a little massage from the funny notsofunny man with the honest heart I cannot thank him enough, just to finally lay down in bed. Sleepless. Being so tired wakening up the one, I laid with forced closed eyes and insomnia. Why? The question remained for the night as well, keeping up the feeling of extremes.
Next day waking up so tired. Why?
Four days. Does it make a routine? Same shit over and over again. And how I felt? Awesome great and robotic. And feeling loved. Alive not so much.
After all, crew really matters.
Feeling loved. By the fourth day everyone from the crew arrived and gathered up for the early start. Whoever not present made a beep sound as being there over the phone and that all of a sudden hit me. Running family, the support, different kind of support than M’s who gave the most all the way. They were there, looking deeply into my eyes trying to understand what I could have felt. All I felt was the warmth though I was shivering. It was cold but also extremely heartwarming. I’m strong but emotionally I break easily. I’m strong but than and there I wasn’t strong. I hurt, I was cold, I was not ready to run. I needed a hug I needed a warm duvet which I could hide under and sleep for like a day. Not an option, nonoptional. So I cried almost like I felt sorry for myself, so much I passed the start with a messed up breathing and probably my most intense heart beat throughout the race. M although he took notice did not show, he was strong and supportive all the way, never broke for a second, or if so I was there to do him the same. We were a team among being alone on our race. Were never alone, never dealing with our own brain individually, but pushed through together. I hope I helped him as much as he helped me.
Determined to finish all the way, but support helped us get through every wall we faced.
Will I ever realize what have we had done? Sometimes I wonder if we cheated in terms of helping each other by running next to the other. Because I feel it was some extra benefit we got from it. Extreme benefitting and helpful.
Just ran BalatonSzuperMaraton starting a week ago. And I also finished. What remain are memories and some extreme blisters on the feet. Proudness have not hit me, instead every time I close my eyes and see us all running there I smile.