Recovery after a race
should be all about basking in the glory of your achievement, taking
it easy and letting your body rebuild itself. My recovery time
coincided with a trip back home, giving me ample opportunity to take
it easy and recharge my batteries. But it has also meant I've been
living out of a suitcase. I haven't stopped to think about High Coast
Ultra. About what it taught me. About the experiences I gained. About
how it affected me and the way I see myself as a runner.
Sure, I talked about it
with any friend who would ask me, but I did it in a detached way,
like I was describing a movie I had seen or something I had read about
in the paper. I told them about the demanding terrain and the weather
and the people I'd met, and they nodded and made appropriate noises.
I told a good friend of
mine about the race and she answered emphatically: ”Yeah, but
that's a lot of kilometres”. Right there. That's when the
penny dropped for me. She must have sensed in a way that I hadn't
realised what I had done. She must have felt my detachment when I was
telling her the story.
When I got back, I
didn't rest. I immediately started thinking about my planned
adventure to run on the King's trail in the mountains a day or two
later. Onwards, forwards, ever moving, never stopping. Then, reports
from the cabins in the area spoke of way too much snow left on the
trail, rendering it impossible to run. My plans would have to wait for
another year. All dressed up and nowhere to go.
 |
| Yearning |
I sat at home, watching
the seemingly never-ending rain turn paths into rivers, and made new
plans. I spoke to an ultrarunner friend about what my next (bigger,
badder) ultra challenge should be. He suggested I join him for a race
in September. I started looking at ways to get there. Reading about
recovery between ultras. Wanting to take on a new goal with my whole
heart.
But High Coast Ultra?
Does that achievement not deserve any pause for thought on my part? And
what about Rovön 6H three weeks before, when I ran 50K? Shouldn't
now be the time to stop and enjoy the fact that all the hard work I
put in last spring paid off, instead of instantly setting higher,
tougher goals for myself? Is this really personal growth or is it
number fixation?
Running in general and
ultra running in particular has always been, for me, more about the
journey and not the destination. The journey was a lot of fun but it
stopped the minute I crossed the finish line, when it really should
have gone on for days afterwards. I don't need confirmation that I
can race a certain distance (although it's nice). I need reflection.
I do it to find out more about myself. I do it to get out there and
feel more in touch with nature. So what is it that makes those race
sirens so seductive?