I just had an interesting talk with an Ultra marathoner. You know, these people must really hate themselves! I am training for a marathon and I know my body is about to revolt. My knees haven’t stopped screaming at me since I began and I think my kidneys have an ad on Craigslist for a new host. That is for twenty-six miles, the ultra-folks do fifty to one hundred miles. I cannot even fathom riding a bicycle that far let alone making my body go that far on my own feet! Fifty miles at a rate of six miles an hour is eight and a third hours, that would be if, and that is a big if, I could run the whole way. Walking at a three-mile an hour pace would be sixteen hours forty minutes. I am not sure what it would be if you crawled but I am sure that would be my time. All the race officials would have gone home by the time I came across the finish line, assuming I actually cross the line. It is more likely you would find me in the fetal position in a gutter choking on some runners GU way before the twenty-sixth mile! I have to admire the shear craziness that they must have to do this to themselves, maybe if they had pie or In n Out burgers every two miles I might attempt it, I would at least sign up thou I might not get past the first food stations.