I want to do an ultra.
It’s been on my mind over the last few months and I’ve done absolutely nothing about it because-if I’m honest-I don’t think I can do it. You see I get myself all fired up by reading everything I can find about them:
They’re eating and drinking contests with a little exercise and scenery thrown in
You’re supposed to run really, really slowly
Plenty of women do them, including grandmothers
…and then I rush out of the door to do a quick 5K and realise how hard even that is. Then I’m all defeated again.
I picture myself a few miles into an ultra as this exhausted mud spattered figure lying by the wayside shivering and vomiting before being stretchered off.
So I’ve come to a decision; I’m going to do a solo ultra. I’ll plan a fairly undemanding route in terms of terrain and navigation and then go off and do it by myself. No pressure at all and I bet the fact that I can change route/stop/give in whenever I want probably means that I won’t.
I’ve got a few routes in mind…
A section of the English Coastal Path
Upside=difficult to get lost. And there’ll always be ice cream somewhere.
Downside=It will be windy; I may need to get a pixie cut.
A UK National Trail
Upside=It’s waymarked and there are B&Bs around for this tentphobic person.
Downside=I won’t exactly be striking out by myself…
A route in France. (I LOVE France)
Upside=Cheese. Wine. Bread.
Downside=there WILL be dogs.
And that’s where I’m at just now. Sitting here binge eating Maltesers and making no progress with my plans at all. I think they call it analysis paralysis.
I’m going to sleep on it.
