Filed under: Dealing, Inspiration, Rest Days, The Race | Tags: days off, healing, marathon, running, struggle
I haven’t done any running. It was a relief for a while, and I’m still enjoying the time off, though I think it’s time to get back out there. I saw a few runners going along the Charles yesterday, and I felt a little itch.
Besides, I’ve officially signed up for the Philadelphia Marathon. It’s seven months away.
I guess it’s time to attack The Question, though. I started this blog a little over nine months ago, when I could barely see myself each day for the sadness and brokenness in my heart. The marathon was a goal, something to strive for, a path through the valley. Something that would make me strong. A goal to help me find me again.
I’m afraid to write this. Deep breath – type. Have I healed?
You can’t know this, but I just sat here for a few minutes, trying to decide what to type and how to type it. Because, you know, I would love to write a resounding, beautiful, uplifting paragraph, something that will raise up my readers in a shout of congratulatory glee, a big, loud, shining YES!
But I must give you the honesty you deserve, as loyal readers and friends who have followed my journey. The answer is no – at least, not entirely.
Hear me out, though. Let me tell you what training for a marathon does. Let me tell you about discovering the strength within myself and, even more importantly, the strength beyond myself. Let me tell you about a new steel and softness that I feel within me. It is as if my path to the marathon were lined with fruit trees, and as I ran I picked their fruit and tasted their fresh newness. Joy, strength, courage. Yes, I have courage now, and I do not think it wrong to assert this.
I still have battles to fight. I still have walls to break down. The journey to healing is not over. But now – now I have the tools I need. So in a sense, I suppose I am healed: I’m my own person again, and I think I always was; running just helped me discover that. But I’m a stronger person now. I’m more at peace with the present now. I know I have what it takes to keep going. I’m a marathoner.
What Now?
I have seven months to train for the Philadelphia Marathon, and this time I’ll have people to train with. My friends S and A will be making Philly their first marathon, and I’m very excited to “mentor” them. The real training won’t begin until late July, so there will be time for them to build their base mileage – and time for me to relax a little! I’ll still be running, but I’ll just be concentrating on maintaining my own base. I might do a couple of small races. There’s a nice little series along the Charles River this summer, mostly five-milers. Perhaps I can even get a little faster!
I was planning on closing this blog after the Marathon was complete, but so many people have been reading it that I may keep it open. Besides, I have had a little idea brewing for the past week. I’ve been thinking of starting a small, informal running club. Not everyone who goes through heartbreak has as strong a support group as I; perhaps I can provide it for them. It’s just a wisp of an idea, and nothing may come of it. But check back here every once in a while. Especially if you live in Boston.
It grows late, though. I have a lot to do tonight, especially since I’m getting up early tomorrow. I’m going running with J, just a little three-miler, slow and leisurely, before breakfast. I can’t wait to feel the road under my feet again, hear the quiet padding of my sneakers on the pavement, feel the soft spring breeze, like a sigh, against my cheeks.
Filed under: Dealing, Inspiration | Tags: family, fight, friends, healing, marathon
I didn’t run the Boston Marathon, obviously, but I did pace C for the last three miles. As a thank you gift, she got me a color-changing mug with pigs on it, and a bottle of jam under the label, “When Pigs Fly.”
I should have written this entry sooner, but one of the big events of this coming weekend (oh. mygosh.), besides the marathon, of course, is the five-year reunion of my closest group of college girlfriends. We’ve all kept in touch through the years, but not until now will we all be in one room again. Some of us are married. Some of us have babies. All of us have changed. But they’re coming, and they’re coming because I asked them to, flying from California and New York and New Jersey and Texas and Indiana to be there for me at the finish line, there for whatever change will happen in my life, big or small, after running this race.
I’ve said that running saved my life, and it has, but the people who really saved me were – and are – my friends and family. They’ve spent as many hours on the phone with me as I’ve spent in my old Asics. They’ve cried with me, hugged me, sent me cards and gifts, distracted me with trips and activities, talked when I needed them to talk and said nothing when I didn’t want to hear it. They’ve donated money to my charity. One of them is even running with me for the last six miles of the race.
When your heart breaks, nothing and no one can take away the pain. It’s like a deep, black ocean, squeezing and churning, wave after towering wave breaking upon you, unending. But even in the darkest of times, when even breathing hurt because of the sadness, they were there, the people that love me, a life buoy in the wrenching expanse, floating through the dark, and I held on for dear life. And I did not sink.
I did not sink.
Filed under: Dealing, Inspiration, The Race, Training Runs | Tags: good advice, Inspiration, marathon, nerves, running, short run
It’s going to be that kind of week. Working at a running store in Boston means that when April begins, you don’t slow down until a week after the Boston Marathon is over. If you’re training for a marathon yourself, that means you succumb quietly, with barely a whimper, to insanity.
(Tangent: Has anyone ever noticed – at least those who’ve been to my city – that if you tell a Bostonite you’re running a Spring race other than the Boston Marathon, people look slightly bewildered? They get that same perturbed, sort of Linus-y worried look that I imagine people had when they found out the world wasn’t flat. Ok, end of tangent.)
Anyway, I was talking to a fellow coworker and runner about marathoning today. She asked me if I had a reason for running, because it’s always the reason, the mental resolve, that gets you through the last six miles. Nothing can prepare you for what it’s really like to run the Marathon, she said, but you’ll do it because you have a reason. What’s your reason? she wanted to know.
I usually don’t share things like that with coworkers anymore. I’ve learned well and hard that keeping things separate from work, keeping your own dirty laundry and your own secrets, your own emotional highs, middles, and lows, protects you in some way. You’re not as vulnerable. You’re not as open to judgment. But something made me tell her, at least a very brief and spare version.
“I just got chills,” she said. ”You know how I know you’ll finish? Because no matter how hard it is, no matter how much it hurts, no matter how much you want to stop running, you’ll remember that what you’re feeling during those last six miles is nothing compared to what you’ve already lived through. You’ve already survived something far harder than a marathon. Let that thought take you to the end.”
Filed under: Inspiration, races | Tags: endorphins, good day, half marathon, hills, Inspiration, marathon, nerves, races, running, slow
I love what happens after a race, after a hot shower and a good meal, how the body and the mind wilt into beautiful relaxation, for once in harmony with one another, basking in accomplishment. I’m back home from Hyannis, in scrubs and an old college sweatshirt, barefoot, lying back on my soft bed as I type this. I pushed myself today, and it paid off.
Everyone was expecting a windy, rainy day, but the weather was just fine, clear and cold and even a little sunny. The course was pleasant, filled with rolling hills and the salt smell of the ocean. I kept a steady ten-minute-mile pace through the whole race, which is slow for most but a pretty big deal for me.
As with Disney, I’ll list a few memorable things below:
- Nerves. Nerves like whoah. I was running with a bunch of people from work, all of whom are very fast. Though I love working at a running store, it has given me a slight speed complex. A sub-two-hour half marathon is peanuts to most of them, and I struggled to crank out a 2:10 (edit: coolrunning says 2:11.41 – rats) today. I’m proud of my race time, and they don’t judge me, but it did make me a bit self conscious at the race start.
- The view of the sea. I loved the salt air, swinging into my face as I rounded a curve. If I ever doubt God, the sea squelches that doubt. It is alive, frightening, beautiful, peaceful.
- The new runners. I stuck around in the cold (it was absolutely frigid, honestly – when you’ve finished a big race, your body temperature plummets like a stone) to see some of the other finishers. I saw two people grab each others’ hands as they crossed the finish line. There was an overweight man who, as he crossed the finish, had such a look of fierce, proud determination on his face that it gave me chills. Two girls did cartwheels as they finished.
- My friend Mandy, who woke up before 6 AM and rode in the car for 1.5 hours each way, just to cheer for me and her friend. Soon I need to devote an entry to how amazing my friends are.
Now begins the steady grind to May. The Flying Pig is nine weeks away. We kick up the miles and the intensity starting this week. I’ve got one more 5K before the marathon, but from now on, it’s go-time.
Filed under: cross-training, Inspiration | Tags: days off, Inspiration, running, short run, swimming
My aunt is probably the best swimmer I know. I may be training for a marathon, but my aunt has been getting up at 3 AM practically everyday for the majority of her adult life so she can swim five miles – I think that’s what my uncle said, five miles – before work. This isn’t something to sneeze at, folks, as I found out today.
I’ve always been a very strong swimmer, myself, but it’s been years since I’ve purposely gone to a pool and done laps. Let me tell you: I cross-train on the stationary bike at a steady 80-100 RPM for a full forty-five minutes at least 3 days a week, and that first half-lap in the pool schooled me! I began to get the hang of it after a while, alternating freestyle with breast stroke and backstroke for about a half an hour. The better my form in the pool, the easier it was to get through it.
I may not have run today, but I feel really good. I’m going to try to swim as often as possible between now and the race. I have a VERY short run tomorrow – just three miles – and I might jump in the pool after finishing, if I have the time. I’m quite excited about this new development. I just hope I don’t develop huge shoulders!
