I ran my first ever ultramarathon at Burning Man this past week.
…And let me tell you: I had zero intentions of running an ultramarathon at Burning Man this past week.
It all started when I met Justin—an ultramarathon runner in my camp.
Justin is a crazy son-of-a-gun who completed a 120k run at one point in his life, but presents in the most calm, cool, collected—un-crazy sort of way.
It was Sunday when we both were getting to know each other after having invested a significant amount of energy into building our 30 person camp that I discovered his intention.
“So, what are you up to tomorrow?”
“Probably just taking it easy. I’m running the ultra on Tuesday.”
…He said about as nonchalantly as you or I might’ve if we were going to the drug store to buy sunscreen.
“…You’re running the 50k?!”
“…In the desert?!”
“…With these dust storms and heat?”
Justin:“Yeahhhh.”
…He replied calmly to each objection without a hint of worry in sight.
“I’ve run a marathon before, but that’s my max.”
I continued as I then proceeded to list all of the reasons why 26.2 miles was my limit.
And as he listened to each rational thought—posture relaxed, legs crossed, gaze soft—I felt a contrasting rigidity form as I drew myself into a box of limitations.
And when I finished he said plainly:“Yeahhhh, well if you’ve run a marathon before, a 50k is just a few miles more.”
“…And it’s not like you have to go fast.” He continued.
“…You can take your time.”
“…If you don’t finish, you don’t finish.”
“…And if you do… well…”
“…Then you do.“