13 Painful Things About Ultra Marathon Running That Will Make You Want To Quit And Cry
Ultra running is a not a bed of roses. My next ultra is in 9 days time and I’m starting to dread it as I’m getting fat again from too much pie consumption. I just can’t help myself and it’s only getting worse.
Here are 13 shitty things about ultra marathon running which really piss me off.
- The perpetually upset stomach – Not only do you have to try not to barf but you also have to keep the brown stuff in the back. When you start vomiting then both of your holes open like the emergency exits in the Miracle of the Hudson. You’d better pray for a water landing.
- The items from the compulsory kit list that you never fucking use – Like the whistle. Even if you were to use it you’re more likely to attract wolves, hookers, highwaymen or vultures than the emergency services.
- The hopelessness of running off course, being too proud to admit it and continuing in the wrong direction as you’re certain you’re on the right path – The longer you continue down the wrong path the more you have to convince yourself that “this path looks familiar. I know where I am”. It’s great when you’re running with someone else. They will blame you and you’ll start punching the head off one another if it gets really heated.
- The realisation that you’re only running ultras because of your ever worsening food addiction – It is too difficult and expensive to get therapy. Much better to maintain the tenuous equilibrium by increasing the distance you run.
- The sheer fucking boredom that sets in after running for many hours without a rest – You can only play so many games of I Spy before you want to die. When our ancestors ran for many miles at least they had the anticipation of cunting a warthog over the head with a tree branch at the end. We get a medal, a handshake and that’s it. Movies like the ‘Barkley Marathons’ are popularising ultramarathons more than ever but they are distilling over 60 hours of running into 90 minutes of action which makes it look exciting. The director’s cut would be like watching flies fuck.
- When is far enough, enough? – You complete a 50k then someone will tell you to run 50 miles. Run 50 miles and then it’s a 100 miler. Then it’s a 100 miler through a desert. Then a 100 miler through a minefield. Then it’s 200 miles running through broken glass with your feet cut off. The ultra distances never end and are only limited by how much of a fucking sadist you are. As humans we’re self destructive as fuck so we’re really just pushing our bodies to see how close we can get to death before pulling back from the brink.
- Being asked by other runners if you’re on course when you don’t have a fucking clue yourself – People always ask me if I’m going the right way at my lowest possible point. Do I look like I know the right way fucker? How fucking lost do you have to be to think that asking me is a bright idea?
Never ask a man who can barely even dress himself whether he knows if this is the right way or not.
- The perpetual ‘should I DNF’ argument that goes on in your head – You’ve just ran 150 miles and you’ve got another 150 to go so you start arguing with yourself over whether it’s time to call it quits. It’s never a happy conversation.
- The insomnia after the race – You’ve just ran 50 miles and you should be tired from all that exertion but the pain from running won’t allow you to sleep. You finally get asleep only to be awoken by sharp cramps in your legs. I used to have awful problems with my nipples when I ran and it’d be agony pulling the sheets over my chest. They’d rub into my boobs and I’d squeal like a girl.
- The GPS watch that runs out of power 50 miles short of the finish line – Sure when it works it can tell you your heart rate, distance ran, sexuality, number of breaths since birth and more useless shit. However it can only do this for a few hours before it gets tired and has to power itself off for nap time. Cunt.
- The brown piss from intense dehydration – If you thought the morning after marathon piss was scary then you’ve yet to see the ultra piss. It can be anything from yellow to charcoal black. Charcoal black likely means you’ve got 12 minutes to live but why not celebrate this fact by into a random of Worship, pissing on an altar and proclaiming “I’m a Djinn!”. I had dark brown piss after London 2 Cambridge. Someone told me to go to hospital as I’d likely fucked up my kidneys. That was a terrifying experience. I just sat around watch ‘The Chase’ scratching my balls instead. Dr Pepper solved my problem.
Look maw I’m pissing like Marilyn Manson!
- The disappointment of reaching the finishing line – It’s not that you actually want to get to the finishing line. You just want the pain from running to stop. And when you stop the pain typically doesn’t. You will have to answer stupid questions from your family and friends. ‘Are you tired?’ ‘NO FUCK OFF’. ‘How are your legs’ ‘IRISH THANKS, NOW FUCK OFF’ You adapt and grow weary and then look for the next thing that will complete you whether it’s Jesus or Skittles.
- The shower afterwards – And the inventory check you have to perform on your body. If you still have your toenails, balls and your sanity than you’re doing better than most of the population.