I walk the line

The line between success and disaster is a very fine one. One that an ultrarunner has to learn how to balance on while an abyss of pain and disappointment lies beneath her feet, no safety net or harnesses. One false step and she falls, and there is no one there to catch her.

With one month left to High Coast Ultra, and just over a week to my last really long long run in preparation for it at Rovön 6H, I am starting to get nervous. I place my feet down extra carefully when I negotiate roots and stones on the trail. I listen extra carefully to my body's signals and massage my thighs at the slightest niggle. I fight the demons saying I can't do it with every bit of mental strength gained on previous races and runs. I keep expecting something to go wrong. I imagine myself standing at the starting line and what I feel most is surprise. Did I really make it here?

At the same time, the time for tapering is not here yet. Two heavy weeks left, two weeks to collect precious terrain kilometres, chasing single track and hills, in shoes caked in mud and on feet pruney and cold. Experience points to help carry me through endless miles of elevation, rocky paths and, possibly, apocalyptic weather. This needs to be done. Two weeks left before I can breathe out and let my body start repairing itself for the real challenge. Suck it up buttercup.

I am ready. I am not ready at all. A fine line between well prepared and under-prepared. Between top form and injury. And I walk the line.