Run!

{{first_name|Hello dear builder}}! This morning I ran my third half marathon. In honor of that, this post is a little different than my usual. Much to my wife’s relief, it does not have to do with AI.¹

One week ago I went on my final training run - on a tiny Greek island. I had just finished attending the World Beautiful Business Forum in Athens (which was fantastic and I’ll share more about it in a future Briefing). I had one day open before my flight and I knew I wanted to get out of Athens for a bit and get more miles in.

My cabdriver on the way to the ferry chuckled when I told him I was headed to Agistri to run. “You’re crazy!” “Why is that crazy??” “Because you go to Agistri to sit on the beach! Why are you running and running??”

Hmm. I had expected accolades from the locals, not derision. I was a bit shaken but I decided to proceed. I had a plan! I had mapped out the island intensively: satellite images, street view where possible, found blog posts on the best trails, picked where I would get a bottle of water halfway through, written down my timing to make sure I would catch the last return ferry. I was totally ready.

The ferry docked and I set out on my course. It started well enough. 

I ran across the top of the island, five miles. It was kinda nice but quite dry and dusty. I came to the end of the paved road, a teeny village with one store where I successfully followed my plan and bought a 1.5 liter bottle of water. The old shopkeeper shrugged when I told him I didn’t have cash, only a card, and he slowly typed into the card terminal, glancing at me in between each number as if to see if I would object: “1…9…9.” I would have still paid if he said the numbers in the opposite order.

I chugged the water, then ran up the road to take my turn into the woods.

The next six miles were set to be across the bottom of the island, through trees along a mountain slope overlooking the water. There was zero development, zero other people to be seen, just a little path. It was a blast. I could see the shiny blue sea through the Aleppo pines. Red, yellow, and purple wildflowers were everywhere. A small green lizard crossed my path.

This is amazing, I thought.

I am amazing.

I was deep in this self-appreciation trance when something sharp poked my ankle. Then again, and again.

I looked down. The path was increasingly overgrown with those tall dry spiky grasses and they were spearing me. I realized the grasses would continue as far as I could see:

Gahh. I debated turning around but I had a PLAN. I was pretty far in and wanted to persevere. I kept going, accepting the constant jabs.

Until I reached what was unquestionably a dead end.

I consulted my phone map again. Shit. I had quite confidently turned off the road onto the wrong path through the woods. After 2.5 miles through the spiky grass, I was at the end of the trail and had no choice but to turn around.

But first that big bottle of water was catching up to me. Well, at least there is literally no one around! I peed facing the sea, feeling the breeze. It felt incredible.

Then I heard a buzzing sound.

I looked down and saw that my voluminous stream had attracted several humongous jet-black wasps. Over an inch long, at least ten of them and more arriving quickly.

Across my extensive preparation I had not imagined the possibility of getting furiously stung by a swarm of wasps, miles from any humans, at the dead end of a trail in the woods. A vivid image flashed of me collapsing to the ground as they stung me everywhere until I perished.

Actually not a terrible way to go, I thought. The view is nice.

But the timing felt premature. I still had so many good ideas from my conference to write down.

I started to jog back down the path. They were keeping up with me, circling me, so I started sprinting. High stepping it too like a prancing show horse so I wouldn't brush the spiky grasses. I felt like one of those guys in the movies who floors the gas pedal and shouts "we gotta get the FUCK OUTTA HERE!" after the viewers have been thinking the same thing for the past ten minutes.

At last I outsprinted them. And then I just kept running. Out of the woods, onto the road, all the way back around the top of the island, until my phone told me it had been 12 miles and I stopped into the nearest restaurant I saw.

I was gently invited to sit my sweaty ass over in the outermost corner of the patio. When my waiter came I was still picking the remaining grass spears out of my socks so I impulsively ordered three salads and two entrees.

“You’re crazy” my waiter said.

But I ate every bite.

Reader, why am I telling you my woeful tale today?

Simply this:

Just...be prepared to run.

Builder’s Briefing will take a break next week for the long weekend. See you in a couple weeks!