Choose
ultras.
Choose a race.
Choose a training plan.
Choose a backpack.
Choose a fucking big GPS watch and a foam roller.
Choose good health,
low cholesterol, and a vegan diet.
Choose your friends.
Choose post-race
clothes and matching luggage.
Choose
parkrun and wondering who the fuck you are on Sunday morning.
Choose not
sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game
shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth.
Choose rotting you
stomach away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable
portaloo, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up
brats you spawned to replace yourselves.
Choose your future.
Choose
ultras... But why would I want to do a thing like that?
I chose not to
choose ultras. I chose somethin' else. And the reasons? There are no
reasons. Who needs reasons when you've got tailwind?
Brilliant. And worringly ultrarunning and Trainspotting does appear to have rather a lot in common ... hallucinations, junk food ... spending a lot of money (on race entries) and having nothing left at the end of the day to show for it except a ruined body.
ReplyDeleteTrailspotting? Both are rather addictive
ReplyDelete