Sometimes I close my eyes, and I'm back on the bumpy 1 kilometer track in Monterrey, Mexico.
I'm feeling too good- flying around the course past my Dad every few minutes on the sidelines. He's wearing a hat, either looking tired, angry, or happy as Simon and I race ignorantly, unknowing of what is to come. Other times, I'm on the run, staggering across a blistering backstretch of new pavement, carrying toilet paper because something has been attacking my stomach for days, and all I want is for sunset. Nightfall, the double-edged sword: cooler temperatures, but exponentially harder to stay awake and coherent. I remember telling my father over and over during the run that I would not and could not ever consider doing this race again. The pain and fatigue was absolutely unimaginable. While on the course, I realized this was my longest event to date, but at that time, had no idea how it would change me on the inside. The 2012 Deca enters my mind every hour of every day, but I never think of the finish. This is how I know that for me, multi-day racing is not just racing. It is everything to me. It's the way I live all year- the thought processes in my brain. I want to marvel at how awful I can feel, so that I can equally enjoy how fantastic life can be. I don't care about the finish. Give me an enlightening, spiritual journey that carves me into a better human being. I took 2013 off from multi-days after a long 4-year stretch of big races, and as a result became unfocused and miserable. A month ago, I made the commitment to return in 2014, and feel worlds better already. Fit and clear-minded, I know it's time to return to the circuit, and have a nice visit with the misery inside myself. kp
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