Whatever “ready to run a 100-miler” feels like, I can’t say I feel it.
As I reached the end of my seven-mile run last week, my last before the 100-miler, that frightening thought crossed my mind.
When I started training back in January, I pictured future-me as something of a tank / truck / beast of a man (or at least as much a beast as my 140-pound frame would allow for). A hundred miles would be nothing for that guy.
I mean, a 26-week training program? Complete with 50K, 50-miler, and many, many runs over 20 miles — often followed the next day by 7 or 10 more miles? How could anyone do all that and not be ready?
And yet, I don’t feel so different from when I started. Sure, seven-milers are easy now. Even 20′s don’t seem like a big deal, just something to knock out in the morning so as not to disrupt the rest of a Saturday (a toddler and newborn have made that necessary).
But 100 miles?
As we drove last night from Asheville to Ohio for the race, several times I took note of just how long 50 miles feels. In a car. And I’ve got to do twice that, on foot.