Ghost Trails

I finished reading Ghost Trails today, written by a woman whose blog I've been reading off and on for a few months (whom I found via another blog I've read off and on for a few years). It's about an ultra-(ultra, ultra-)endurance race, and it made me think about the relationship between endurance and pain and how much pain you should endure in pursuit of endurance feats.

I know I have an above-average pain tolerance; giving birth twice without drugs confirmed that for me. Because of my doomed knee, I always have some measure of pain while running--but it's not bad, and I barely notice it any more. In the last two years, I've had pelvic pain with pretty much every step I take. It's usually bearable, but when it's not, I'm reduced to limping (and cursing) within minutes. I feel like I have good sense of how much discomfort I'm willing to endure, and as long as it doesn't consistently cross that threshold, I'm happy to keep going. In other words, I'm too stubborn to stop. H would nod vigorously in assent. And rolls his eyes. And ask if you, dear reader, could possibly talk some sense into me because he's given up.

I'll admit I'm not very good at distinguishing between "good pain" (pushing your limits) and "bad pain" (hello, stress fracture), between intensity and injury. But as I read about Jill's effort in the 350 Iditasport race, I thought, heck, surely I can manage 50 miles.

6 miles from my parents' house today, on the roads with a foray through the old high school cross-country course--most of which I discovered has been paved over in the last year.