I did a recovery run this morning around 5 AM. It was a slower than I’d have liked but perfectly acceptable run. This daylight savings nonsense has mucked up my schedule even more than usual. You’d think with the travels and time zone skipping it wouldn’t matter and yet… it kinda does. The sun is already setting as I type this and it’s not even 5 yet. I’d much prefer running in the dark in the morning than this creeping night thing. Yeesh.
I’ve started printing out my itineraries and hotel reservations for next week’s mad dash through the Southwest Series… plus the Avengers Infinity Gauntlet, Vegas, and the Harpeth Hills bookends. Every time though that I think I’m crazy, I hear about somebody just a little more nuts than me. Here for example is a guy trying to run a marathon on all the Royal Caribbean cruise ships.
Runners as a general rule seemed to revel in stats and figures — pace per mile, personal record times, collecting events on the way to some goal a la the Seven Continents Club or the 50 States Marathon Club. I’m certainly one who dabbles in statistics and sets himself up for weird completist’s tasks.
So it was that I finally flipped through my website stats over on Jetpack. And the numbers are, ahem, sobering. The highest number of views I garnered was back in February and it was less than the number I just hit with a website I threw together for a final party I’m hosting in the new year. That was certainly eye-opening.
If a runner falls in the woods and no one is around to see it did it really happen? Based on my injuries at the SpaceRock Trail race, I can assure you that even if no one is around it still hurts like hell. And if no one is around to read one’s blog, does it really matter?
Shrug. Maybe. Maybe not. It is what it is. And like running itself, I’m not sure I’m doing this thing for anybody but me anyway.