I skipped the regular Sunday meetup: call it time constraints meets family obligations.
It figures: I have five days off for the holidays and I can’t seem to find a spare minute to fit in a proper run. So I woke up early and ran solo, squeezing in an eight klick run before we drove off to visit the family for another holiday lunch. It was seventeen degrees below zero and I was wearing three layers with a balaclava wrapped over my face and frost collecting on my eyelashes. The sun had just come up and the nearly full moon was hanging near the western horizon.
And that was that. With a few hundred meters to spare, I crossed the invisible finish line on my annual distance goal. One thousand, three hundred and fifty one klicks in 2015. (Sidenote: if that seems like an arbitrary number, it is — but only because I base each year’s new goal on the previous year’s goal and the weird math sorta compounds over time.)
With less than a klick to go I ran past the group who I would have been running with… they were just starting and I was just closing my distance to home. Today I was the lonely stranger passing the crowd. They didn’t know I was racing towards the last few hundred meters of my annual goal as they ran past:
1351 km across 144 hours and 40 minutes of running. Done.
With four days to spare AND counting the thirteen –yes, thirteen– races I ran this year. Deep breath… wow. No, really… wow.
Which brings me to next year. As per usual, as I cross one finish line I announce the next one. And sticking with my strange math from last year, the goal for 2016 is…. drum roll… this year’s goal plus my current age equals a nice round 1390 km, all starting with a five klick race on New Years Day, of course.
See you out there.