Baristing

I think I ran over 90 miles last week, and also played catch (with a baseball) for about 30 minutes yesterday. My shoulder is sore; my legs are not.

Back when anyone at all could go to gyms, I often did; so it's not that I needed to be reminded that my niche athleticism is precisely that. But whether needed, I got the reminder.

Not as a compensatory mechanism, but rather due to a lack of races, I've been thinking of soloing a 50K. Ideally about 3:45. If I do that, and it goes well, I'd like to try Psycho Psummer again in July. If anyone is racing in July. And if anyone is racing in the Fall, there is Heartland, again, maybe--or for the first time, the whole way.

We'll see. It's easy to say "Well, I was going to do *insert ambitious thing here*, but the world went crazy, and so I didn't." But there are cool local races that I'd like to do. Both parts of that are important.

A thing about pandemics that prevent travel is they invite folks to reflect on place, what it means to them and maybe what it ought to mean. Maybe we shouldn't travel so much for races. Maybe Western States shouldn't be ultrarunning's Boston or Kona; maybe Boston and Kona shouldn't be Boston and Kona, either.

That, I should note, is relatively easy to say when I am not qualified for 2/3 of those. (I can't comfortably swim one length of a pool. So.)