I read that yesterday. It's dogged my steps and consciousness ever since.
Tomorrow at 4:30 AM I'll be walking out the door into the dark, shoes loosely laced, chafable parts lubricated, (big shout-out to Vaseline, here) sunscreen in place, a rapidly gobbled banana sitting uneasily in my stomach.
2 1/2 hours later, give or take, our relay team of 5, the Wanderers Return (though, technically, Graham and I are the only ones back from last year's team), will be setting out into Musandam and up the Hajar Mountains from the Straits of Hormuz.
The Wadi Bih race. 72.2 kms of rugged running.
I am nowhere near trained to where I wanted to be for this.
Oh, God, why do I do these things to myself?
Wait! I remember. Because, and no, I can't explain it, it's fun.
Is it too late to have myself committed to a mental institution, to keep me from harming myself, for my own good?
Yeah, waaaaay too late.
Wish me luck, people!