The armchair optimist in Mrs J is a happy camper today. Big, huge, gold medal for Sweden in the cross country world championships. 50 kilometers on classic stride and glide skis, up and down an alpine valley.

That will separate the men from the boys! That will put hair on your chest!

Never mind that they shave it off in order to attach the electrodes to your chest as you are rushed to the emergency room afterwards…

Watching (from the comfort of her very much stationary armchair) how men and women gobble up kilometer after kilometer at insane speeds got Mrs J philosophizing about distance. How long is long, really?

Coincidentally also on the sporting calendar today, Vasaloppet. Literally, “the Vasa race”, this is the oldest, the longest and the biggest (in terms of participants) cross-country ski race in the world. Do feel free to join the thousands and thousands of scandos who sign up every year for these 90(!)km of torture on cross-country skis. Do forgive those of us that will not join you.

Mrs J has never done anywhere near this kind of distance on skis. In fact, she’s hardly even seen any cross-country skis, except on TV, since 19frozetodeath. Though she still aims to do a half-marathon at some point, on foot anything above 10km is still pretty much “long” to Mrs J. On a bike 35km is definitely “long”. 90km? It takes an hour in a car, y’all. “Long” doesn’t quite cover it.

And still thousands and thousands of people actually finish. 50km. 90km. On skis. Half-marathons. Marathons. Triathlons. Your average sporting person may not do it as fast, or as impressively, as today’s 50k Swedish cross-country hero. Though I’m betting 50km was “long” for him today.

Apparently, long is only in your mind. So how long is your piece of string?