THERE’S no logical explanation for entering a half marathon race, really. 21.1km at 5.30 in the morning is really not comfortable at all.
Except if you are a sadist. Then it makes complete sense. All you want to do is punish your body and your psyche for the sake of… well, damage.
But I did it. Call me what you want, but I set my alarm and I got out of my warm bed and I drove to the stadium to run alongside 5000 other crazy cats for 21.1 kilometres.
Perhaps it’s the euphoria feeling. Perhaps I’m addicted to it. The endorphine release some 30 minutes afterwards makes you feel superior.
Perhaps I’m just trying to show off to my wife. This is a lot harder than I thought it would be.
You see, waking up and running a half marathon is just the headline. The actual story is that it takes weeks, nay – months (!) of waking up early and training to prepare for the day when you wake up and run the actual. And the story is long in as much as it is months of setting the alarm and trying to get to bed early, many mornings waking up early, many difficult wrestling matches with the pillow – which seems intent of holding my head hostage to the confines of the mattress…
But in the end, the headline sold the story. And my wife was impressed. I think.
Like I say, there’s no logical explanation for entering and running this kind of long-distance race, really.
21.1km at 5.30 in the morning is really not comfortable at all.
But life is not all comfort, is it? And if I can do it, you can do it too.