Today is June 11, 2019 (in case digital timestamping fails me here later), and I am exactly 150 days away from my next marathon. Monumental, here I come! This will be my fourth marathon ever, but really only my second-ish marathon in my self-proclaimed second running life. (If you take a long hiatus from running or racing you’re allowed to start over and approach each race with the wonder and excitement of a newbie—indefinitely.) I have frequently wanted to document my marathon journeys for myself to remember what it felt like to go through each cycle, while not yet having found a rhythm with the act of reflection (unless you count my training log, which I’m told is quite prolific).
Still, there is so much of that wonder that I don’t capture in those weekly logged records, and there is so much more life happening around those workouts that even if I were to go back and review my artistic (yes?) musings on my paces, and probably also the weather, I’d be missing the rest of the story. Truth be told, the day-to-day nuts and bolts of training aren’t all that interesting, nor are they incredibly unique to me, but surely the collection of these singular efforts are more profound. Right?
So, where to begin…
First of all, let me vent briefly about the fact that I was supposed to run a marathon last month that didn’t happen. Green Bay, you are currently not my favorite city. Previously, I had naively assumed only lightening would be an absolute race day show-stopper, but as it turns out flooding will do the trick too. (Note to self: steer clear of courses adjacent to rivers.) Being woken up at 2:30 on race morning by this announcement will probably not bode well for future race eve sleeps, but the half marathon course remained open, so I at least got to try to burn off some of those gallons of stored electrolytes before making the pilgrimage back home. Silver lining: I wasn’t thirsty for two days.
As it turns out, the emotional toll of not running a marathon you were psyched for is on par with the physical exertion of actually running it, so I found myself perfectly content to let my soggy running shoes sit untouched for the next week, and I still indulged in all my planned post-race treats, like a massage and ample bubbly adult beverages. My coach and I agreed to proceed as if I had seized the day, i.e. run my goal time, so huzzah. Brownies for dinner? Okay, twist my arm.
The past few weeks have been at some median point of running and not, which is to say that I’ve been slowly building my mileage back up to a training level, but I have been less pressed to remember exactly how many times I’ve hit snooze. It’s been a good break, but I’m also raring to go, and have found my way back to that hopeful land of PR dreams, where your mind starts to wander to future, perfect races like you’ve never had a bad one.
A final note about, well, this note. I’ve tried to participate on social platforms, namely the ubiquity that is Instagram, but I’ve struggled with the act of regularly photographing my journey. I love to follow other people’s visual stories, but I’m much more of a wordsmith. So, if you’re inclined to read I hope you’ll forgive my text-centric approach to sharing. (I mean, how do you snap a picture of a parenthetical aside?)
Sincerely,
The Runner Who Likes to Write and Has Vowed to Do More of It
