Szalay

My original plan for this week was to repeat one of the hundred-kilometre weeks of January, which would still be on the low side considering that I have a 132-kilometre ultra coming up in five weeks' time. But, being alone with the kids, I will struggle to even make it to eighty. Hopefully, I will be up with the sunrise tomorrow and ready for a long run.

Before that, I keep turning the pages of David Szalay’s Flesh, a novel that someone likened to a night train, where with each chapter the main character is older and in a new place, in medias res. A bit like Rawls & Me if you jump between the years. Following Stockholm Marathon on Strava, I realize that seven years have passed since I last ran it myself. Looking at the familiar route, I remember the completely unexpected tears when someone in the crowd shouted “Go, Dad!” and the feeling of crossing the finish line at Stockholm Stadion just short of my goal of 3 hours and 45 minutes. Like the protagonist István, one somehow ends up in a different chapter before noticing how much time has passed.