Run for Your Life | Outside Online

Because it’s both logistically difficult and not socially acceptable to flog yourself in public, I run. I run a lot, and I’m not saying that to impress anybody. I run so much that it’s kind of weird.

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Ultrarunning has a way of insulating you from the typical blight of modern existence, where our lives hang in the balance of every social-media post or middle-management employee evaluation. As a runner, you aren’t owned by these things because you don’t want to be owned by them, and you feel superior to most of the civilians walking around because you motherfucking are superior to them. Well, sort of. You’re living life intentionally by not doing all the stuff people do just to keep up with each other. Spending all your free time on Facebook. Playing golf. Nightclubbing. Going on cruises. Watching The Hunger Games or reading Twilight or whichever one is not about vampiristic perpetual virgins. You. You run.

Well, sort of. You’re living life intentionally by not doing all the stuff people do just to keep up with each other. Spending all your free time on Facebook. Playing golf. Nightclubbing. Going on cruises. Watching The Hunger Games or reading Twilight or whichever one is not about vampiristic perpetual virgins. You. You run.

And it has more to do with being obscure, and being sure of that obscurity, than with actually belonging to anything. Especially with running, where, more often than not, you’re running from and alone rather than to or with. If it hurts, you’re doing it right. If it feels good, you’re fucking up.

Which is, of course, a lot like life in all respects, but not how we’re told it is. It’s certainly not how we’re supposed to say it is. Especially if you’re a parent.

Read the whole article: Run for Your Life | Outside Online

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