I guess I really have turned into my dad, because I keep thinking of more and more things lately that have developed and become popular during my lifetime - CDs, DVDs, cell phones, the internet, etc., etc. An off-shoot of that technology is, of course, the blog-o-sphere. A year ago, I don't think I had ever read a blog, let alone maintain one of my own, although there are a couple of message boards that I keep up with on a regular basis (on one, believe it or not, I actually met my now-wife!).
I was thinking about this last night before my run, probably because I didn't really want to do it - I was up early to swim, had a pretty involved day at work, and the sofa was pleading with me to take a load off and relax a little. But I resisted, in part because I knew that somewhere, out there, bloggers I follow were no doubt leaving their sofas to get in a second workout of the day. They probably didn't feel any better than I did, but they'd be out there. And I'd read about it the next day. And it gave me a boost of motivation to get out there and get 'er done.
Perhaps it's a bit strange that people who I've never met - and will likely never meet - can provide inspiration just by documenting their triathlon or marathon journeys, but it also makes a ton of sense. Endurance sports are still not normal pastimes, despite the ever-increasing number of participants worldwide, and I think it's fair to say that most people I know think that training for an IM (especially after you've already done one) is just plain nuts. They don't understand why you'd ever devote this kind of time, effort, and expense to something so extreme and painful. Friends and family may be supportive, but, not being in it, their words can only bring so much comfort, especially when the Plan calls for yet another early morning swim session.
But there are people out there that understand. I read their blogs and post on the same message boards. And we appreciate each other's efforts, victories, and dissapointments in a way that others cannot. Because we've been there - the early mornings, the bricks, the intervals, the uncertainty, the pain, the joy. There's that shared body of human experience that creates a bond, despite never having shaken hands or said 'hello'.
So, I guess, even if other people think we're crazy, we can be crazy together. Out here on the internet.
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