My motivation is boredom.
Let me explain.
Since I’ve signed up for an ultramarathon (the 125 km Canadian Death Race), I’ve had many conversations explaining WHAT it is. Yes, 125 km. Yes, 24 hour max time. Yes, 3 mountains. Yes, yes, yes.
Very few people get it. Most people think I’m crazy. Which is fine, after all, it does sound completely nutty.
I rarely get past the ‘crazy’ aspect of the conversation, at which point I typically change the subject out of sheer uncomfortableness (it’s a word…I checked)!
In the middle of a rather long training run last weekend, my experienced-ultra-runner running partner finally asked me, “Why did you decide to run an ultra?”
The first thing that came to my mind was not what I’d like my motivation to be but…
I have a good job, great friends, a loving family. And I felt like there was something missing, something unidentifiable. The nights out drinking, the 10k race clinics, the day trips to the mountains. They were almost fulfilling, but I woke up feeling like I was still missing out (and often…hungover and feeling like I was still missing out…not a good place to be).
Let me tell you. You talk to ultra-runners enough, the idea of 125 km seems fairly remedial. They’re searching for 300k, through the desert, 7 days, running running running.
As anything in life. Perspective matters.
So. Let’s get some perspective here. I’m lucky enough to be mentally and physically fit. Let’s push things. Let’s do something big. Let’s spend August long weekend finishing a 125 km race in the remote mountains of Grand Cache Alberta.
And what happens if I don’t finish? Let me defer that question to a guy you might know…
(Michael Jordan: I can accept failure, I can’t accept not trying)
And I’ll tell you one thing. I’m not bored anymore.