Rebekah Speaks

On a whim, I signed up for a race that was a mere seven days away. A 6-hour timed race, it sounded so, well, short--at least compared to a 24-hour race. And why not? On race day I would be a month out from a 24-hour event and two weeks shy of a 25-mile mountain race. Even though my weekly mileage could hardly be called "training," a pavement run through a park seemed like a swell idea for the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Not wanting to make the 1:45 drive in the wee hours, an inexpensive hotel room the night before was the perfect way to relax with the Hallmark channel broadcasting predictable yet soul-soothing Christmas movies. I felt wonderfully relaxed and at ease, sleeping better than expected. Lest you think this a typical race report, that is not my intent. That said, the facts are simple. It was a chilly 27 degrees at the start, never breaking 42 through race's end. The course was a 1.34 blacktopped ramble through an idyllic community park: playgrounds, duck pond,

 In the aftermath of my third 24-hour race, I am recoiling a bit. The phrase, "There is dignity in completion," written by ultrarunning great and philosopher, Sabrina Little , is running a circuitous route through my gray matter. I am bothered by it--and somewhat embarrassed--that I stopped approximately two hours and five minutes short of the 24-hour mark. Why? Why did I decide to bag the effort with time remaining on the clock? It's complicated but at the same time quite simple. Sabrina also put digital pen to paper to say  "Patience is the virtue of remaining in difficulty."  If I understand that concept correctly, there is an embedded implication that not choosing to remain in the difficulty is a sign of impatience, a not-so-virtuous marker of sub-optimal character. So yikes. It's a little disconcerting to contemplate the extent of my failing. Here's the backstory. With no pressure-producing cut-off designations, the timed races (eg. 24 hrs) hold a