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Showing posts from January, 2017

Spousal Support: A few words from guest blogger Mark Basehart

Each one is different and yet the same--no matter how frequent or infrequent the “get-aways.”   Her last thought before she starts a race is “why am I doing this?” (It always starts with why to power up her happy). Her first thought after finishing a race is “When can I do it again?”   (A restless soul searching for essentialism—the disciplined pursuit of less by doing more). When she tightens her ponytail or puts on her running hat, you know it’s about to go down. She needs her alone time and space. She runs epically, reaching, owning it.   Afterwards, I feel the need to send condolences for the loss of her toenails. These people—you, who call yourselves ultra-runners—are simultaneously blessed and cursed.   You understand what it is to embrace, live and manifest the YOLO mentality of the 21 st century—it is what we ALL crave—to “regret proof ” this life—at one level or another, through the pursuit of our passions of choice. You have found a tribe of like- minded individuals

Dear Mother Nature

Dear Mother Nature, I'm done apologizing to you.  I have tried to make amends and to appease your whims.  But, enough is enough. You've thrown wind, rain, hail, ice, mud, blizzards, humidity, blistering temps, and more at me.  I've taken it all. Sometimes, it has defeated me, and I've had to seek shelter.   Those times hurt the most.  Other times, I've found a way to persevere and push on.  All while you feign innocence by surrounding the days preceding and following my races with fair temps and boring forecasts.  You seem to relish in hurting me. No more. I am hear to fight. Yeah, yeah, I know this will annoy you, and I'll have to bear the repercussions.   I've already seen the forecast for this weekend:  up to 10 inches of snow, accumulating ice, and wind gusts up to 35 mph. You're getting predictable. You see, I'm on a quest for my final Beast Double Buckle, and I'm not letting you get in my way of getting that job done. So,

Rest: Phunt 50K

“I need to process this.”    That’s my standard line, when I don’t want to respond emotionally.    When, I’m tired. This past week, the alarm would go off, and rather than play that snooze-alarm math, that both lets me sleep until the last possible moment, AND get ready without looking like my morning is happening at light speed, I simply rolled over.    I overslept for work THREE times this past week.   This is NOT like me. I inherited my disposition to keep busy from my mom.   “NEVER sit before noon” is her mantra.   Even at 82.   Even when her daughter tells her to wait for her to arrange plowing vs. shoveling her monster driveway.   “I’ll rest after, Eva” she says.   “It’s better that way”. If you cared to look, on any given day, you would see two emails that I send to myself every morning.   One is a very specific daily delineation of what I want to accomplish and the other is my weekly “Tetris” chart.   The latter, though less detailed, contains enough info that I