I recently read Solo, written by a woman named Jenny Tough, who ran, solo, across six mountain ranges on six continents to rekindle her wonder for life and release her demons. I have a theory that we are in some ways drawn to ultra-endurance endeavors because they fill a hole in our psyche that our modern way of life cannot. I'm certainly drawn to learning about endurance athletes like Jenny Tough or Diana Nyad, who swam 110 miles from Cuba to Key West at the age of 64, after numerous failed attempts and near-death experiences. Or Joan Benoit, who won the first women's Olympic marathon in 1984. I get emotional every time I watch the footage of her crossing that finish line, because of what was carrying her across--pure grit--even when she could hardly walk anymore.
I love exercising, too. For me, the feeling of exertion is an incredible high. I learned to love running in 2014 when I discovered what it felt like to run in the wintertime, in the snow. It was the process of running, in particular, that I fell in love with, not just the runner's high that comes afterwards. I ran up the hills in Ithaca, NY when it was cold enough that it hurt a little to breathe deeply. I'd run while it was snowing, and icy particles collected on my cheeks and eyelashes. I'd half-close my eyes to avoid the oncoming tumult. Once, I saw a shadowy figure emerge from the opaque white world as I ran along Tower Rd. It was another runner, and we smiled at each other as we passed, a small salute to the secret, shared, delight of running in a snowstorm.
My athletic endeavors pale in comparison to what Jenny Tough or Diana Nyad or Joan Benoit endured or achieved. But I think there is beauty in gathering our bodies and our minds to focus singularly on the process of exertion. It releases something in me, too. I feel that I am meant to be out there, in the elements, breathing in the cold smell of snow and feeling the fire in my muscles. I am often staring at my computer for hours every day, plugged into an abstract world. But that isn't enough for me. Our biology is clear--we are meant to be out in wild places, too, moving our bodies and minds towards new horizons, each in our own way.
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