You may notice a pattern around here.
A big announcement is launched, decorated with an abundance of enthusiasm as a new endeavour begins to take shape. The social media pages reactivate, the blogs get published, the videos get shared and the excitement begins to build.
I call this The Starting Line.
It's all energy in these moments and there's a phase of complete optimism and the hunger for adventure seems to arrest every fibre in your being.
Following this hype stage, training begins. The talk has to be met with action and the pressure of promising an extreme athletic performance begins. Additionally, donations don't raise themselves, and energy begins going towards securing sponsorships and pinning down the story we're going to share with the public.
I call this the First Water Break.
The size and reality of what has been undertaken begins to hit you and you realize two things: how necessary a team is and how insane your brain is.
The stages here begin getting tougher now: the logistics (my worst nightmare) have to be addressed, the planning has to be solidified and the final push for donations has to be made. It seems like everywhere you look there's something that threatens the actualization of the event.
I call this Tying Your Shoelace.
This stage forces you out of the routine focus that's been the habit for the intense training period, but is necessary (however much of a nuisance it feels), to actually have an event to perform in the coming weeks.
And then we move into Go Time: the moment you've eagerly and excitedly been waiting for: you finally hit the road and your whole being is ecstatic to be there. Nothing feels more important in that moment than the here and now. It's one of the most beautiful and liberating experiences individuals can have.
I call this The Runners High
This is a period of instant gratitude: where you feel in complete alignment and can appreciate each and every step taken - and currently being taken.
Within the ultra itself, there are about 101 other stages you endure, so we'll skip to the morning after. You wake up, in severe pain but now there's no purpose to hide it; no goal to shake it off with. This, to me, is where the endurance becomes the hardest. When you have to return to simply living life on a pretty mediocre level, even when such a monumental high has been achieved. It is the most painful of all the days.
I call this The Finish Line
It's the moment where you feel the weight of all you've done but are met with a silence as you drive away, wondering if you did enough. It's the battle of going back to regular life without such a significant piece of it there.
When all is said and done, performing an ultra is one of the easiest parts of the actual journey. Because the purpose of these extreme events is focused on charity, it adds an additional layer of preparation to achieve the outcome.
Most people think running an ultra is hard.
But the hardest part is finishing and wondering,
"What's next?"
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