Did you know that a 61 year old man ran a ultramarathon (566 miles) in rain boots and not only won but broke the record by two days
Let me start with this: I hate running. Like, I really fucking hate it. I know some people out there can’t get enough of that shit, and they dream of nothing more than chugging organic free-range veggie smoothies and talking about their ultra-rigid interval-training regimens while stair-stepping their way up around the outside of Sauron’s Tower in Mordor, but as far as I’m concerned intense cardiovascular exercise is a torturous labor on par with the cruelest deviltries this side of some sadistic Spanish Inquisition asshole burning your eyes out with red-hot pokers and then spitting lemonade into the sockets to disinfect the wound. I mean, seriously, unless I’m stretching out a double in beer league softball or fleeing the crushtastic knobby tires of that self-propelled Mack Truck from Maximum Overdrive I’d just as soon strangle myself unconscious with a jump rope than put in the obligatory hour a day on the treadmill I need to ensure that I don’t lose the ongoing World War I’m waging with my burgeoning love handles.
Despite my own aversion to the whole “one foot in front the other as rapidly as possible until your lungs shrivel into raisins which then subsequently catch on fire, your legs feel like they’re made out of cheap post-consumer recycled rubber, and you wish nothing more than the sweet release of a swift death” thing, I have nothing but respect for those psychotic lunatics who pursue the sport (is that the right word for it? Runners seem to think so…) of Ultramarathoning. Ultramarathoning, for those of you who lack the ability to process compound words, are like regular marathons, only FUCKING ULTRA. In its purest form, Ultramarathoning is basically just a bunch of human-looking robots running as fast as they can forever. Races don’t go around a track, they span ZIP codes, and they aren’t measured in meters, they’re measured in how many DAYS it takes you to finish the course.
Arguably the toughest ultramarathon ever conceived in the black recesses of some running-obsessed sadist’s disturbed mind is the Westfield Sydney to Melbourne Ultra Marathon – a 566-mile foot race that started in a mall parking lot in Sydney, Australia, and ended in another mall parking lot in Melbourne, a good 875 kilometers away.
Here’s a map of the course, or, as it was most likely captioned in the pamphlets handed out before the race, WELCOME TO HELL:
A 61 year old man ran a ultramarathon (566 miles) in rain boots and not only won but broke the record by two days
No comments:
Post a Comment