As I laboured through the opening kilometres of the Course des Pompiers, I found myself again contemplating one of life’s great unanswered questions: where exactly is the line between stubborn and stupid?

I’ve spent a good portion of my adult life trying to find that imaginary line without success. Three days after enduring 13 hours of hell at Sulphur Springs, I wasn’t researching recovery protocols or booking a massage, but browsing race calendars for upcoming runs and the Course des Pompiers popped up. It was the following weekend and there were still spots available, so twelve clicks and three minutes later, I was enrolled.

Stupid: Enrolling in the Course des Pompiers, and bringing this ridiculous race shirt home

At the time, I wasn’t even sure I could run being unable to navigate the stairs in my house. Every muscle in my body was sore and it felt as though I’d been Frankensteined together with spare parts. There was no compelling reason to run whatsoever, just a momentary impulse and a nearby credit card. Yet four days later, here I was running in a third endurance race in four weeks and wondering, again, what the fuck I had done.

Every step hurt. My legs felt like concrete slabs. There was no spring in my stride or illusion that I was about to tap into hidden energy reserves. My body was sending increasingly detailed messages explaining why this entire endeavour was a terrible idea while my brain produced counter messages of resilience. It’s a weird internal argument that has gotten me across a lot of finish lines over the years.

The problem is that stubborn and stupid often look remarkably similar from the outside. Both involve ignoring warning signs. Both involve continuing when common sense suggests stopping. The difference between stubborn and stupid, I’ve discovered for me, is determined after the fact. If things work out, I’m headstrong and stubborn. If they don’t, I’m an idiot, and for much of this marathon, I wasn’t entirely sure in which category I belonged.

This marathon felt like a sequel to recent runs and at no point did I feel strong, or fast, or even remotely athletic. Every kilometre felt like a continuation. The setting was different, but the plot remained largely unchanged, so I just kept moving. Eventually the finish line arrived and I crossed it in 4 hours and 17 minutes. On this particular day, it felt like a minor miracle even though the race itself slowly unfolded exactly as logic would have predicted.

Stubborn: I finished despite my stupidity

As for the line between stubborn and stupid, perhaps it isn’t a fixed point at all. Maybe it’s just a moving target that follows us through life. Some days we stay on the right side of it. Other days we wander across it and hope for the best. What I do know is that I’ve spent most of my life somewhere in its general vicinity, and at least I’m self-aware enough to recognize when I’ve crossed it. The problem is that recognizing it and changing course are often two very different things. In fact, now that I think about it, there are a few upcoming races that look interesting.

Stupid: My healthy post-race meal