And so here we are, at the end of another year, and me dragging my body to the finish line that isn’t a finish line at all, but just the arbitrary start/finish where we begin another lap. My birthday just so happens to be December 31st, so maybe my laps aren’t as arbitrary as some others, but the fact remains. We’re not done yet.
This year I’ve prepared a high comedy for myself. After the Yeti Snakebite 50k, I turned myself in to the physical therapist to address a flaming hot case of Achilles tendonitis, complete with a big, gross knot of scar tissues protruding visibly from my ankle. I have only been running intermittently (as permitted), and so I have a this great big well of running motivation that is mostly untapped. I’m a lame horse dying to gallop.
I went ahead and said ‘fuck it’ and signed up for the Yeti 12 Days of Xmas, because I needed something fun to do during the holidays, and I love the Yeti Trail Runners so much it makes my heart hurt a little, more on that in a sec.
Because the comedy doesn’t end with a broken-down body signing up for a running challenge. Also, because I’m turning 50, I had a colonoscopy scheduled for the 1st Day of Xmas. My true love is an inspired gift giver.
So yesterday was both the first day of Yeti Xmas AND the day I wasn’t allowed to eat any solid food AND the day I had to consume 14 days’ worth of laxative in the space of 12 hours as prep for someone I’ve never met before to examine the inner workings of ass. I’m having a hard time figuring out whether the joke is on me, or on them. I guess they’re getting paid, so it’s me.
Mercifully, the assignment for the first day of Xmas was light and easy and nice, which is good because the lack of food really put me in a fist-fighting mood, a thing I contemplated as calmly and placidly as I could while I walked slowly through the woods in the cone of my headlamp.
I don’t want to say too much about what we’re supposed to do each day, because that’s like giving away someone else’s treasure, and Jason, the head Yeti, has put a lot of time and energy into this thing, not to mention investing it with a level of feeling I did not expect. And that brings me to what I love about Yeti Trail Runners, even though he and they live a thousand miles away mostly.
It’s not about the running. It’s about having fun. Exploring. Being with friends. Basking in nature. Punk rock. Motivation. Etc. Etc. Etc. The running is a prism. It’s the canvas. But the Yetis don’t care how fast you ran, or even how far most of the time. If you didn’t have fun (Type I or Type II), then you did it wrong. But that’s ok, try again.
If you don’t stop, if the run never ends, then you never come up short, so keep fucking going.