Think I could walk it – maybe Good on you
Editor’s note: I started writing this a while ago but it turned into a sprawling novella, unfit for publication as a blog post. There’s more I’d like to say, but for now I’ll just give you the race report.
Before the Keys 50, the farthest I’d ever covered under the power of my own two feet was 34 miles. Somehow I was going to have to find it in me to tack another 16 miles onto that. The curious thing is how little the idea scared me. I didn’t stay awake all night long dreaming of the abyss like I did the night before my second Olympic-distance triathlon, which had me swim nearly a mile in a murky lake that was home to sunken buses and alligators, and I didn’t suggest to Brian that it wasn’t too late for us to turn around and go home the way I…
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