The Perfect Storm

When I first received my card confirming that I was registered for the Boston Marathon, I taped it to my mirror in the bathroom to remind me that I needed to get the runs in and get up and go to the gym even when I didn't want to, even when I was tired, even when other things got in the way. Saturday, I tore the card off mirror and ripped it to pieces.

Sometimes, life gets in the way of training. People get tired of the schedules; the planning, the getting up at ridiculous hours to get runs in; the need to eat at an earlier hour than normal.

This was one of those weekends -- the elements and life got in the way. I wanted to throw in the towel, even with just 4 weeks to go. I asked myself: why am I doing this?

Friday night was a bad start to the weekend. I ate too late for starters.

Saturday, I headed to RunTex, and it was pouring. I mean torrential. And the lightning was cracking across the sky. LB and I headed out and the lightning got worse, the rain came down even harder. We decided to head back to RunTex and clocked just over four miles.

I really needed to get 22 miles in as I had a terrible 22 miler a few weeks ago. So much of my issue is mental late in the race. The demons creep in...I start to doubt, wonder, want to quit. I have to work hard to stay in it at all. In fact, there has only been one race I've ever done that I did not have the desire to quit; and that was Moe's a few weeks ago. So, I use a lot of mental energy just not believing in myself.

There could hardly be more obstacles to my 22 miler this week. Seriously, the emotional obstacles alone were steep.

On Sunday, LB and I headed out for 22 at 10:30 am. I was very dubious. I was hurting emotionally. I wondered if I really could do it. But, I have learned something about myself in training over these years, not just for Boston, but other races; that with adversity, I seem to dig in and get it done.

Such was Sunday. A headwind like the dickens, not enough sleep or food and stress. I dug in. At mile 7 I was done mentally, but I kept myself in it. I will not quit, I will just run one mile after the other. I have to prove to myself and everyone else that is tired of listening to me and my training plans, that I can do it. So, I put my head down, I grid out the miles.

Mile 18 is always my worst. LB usually drops me. We're heading back along Exposition, which means hills at the end. I pick up my knees, I dig in hard and keep going as hard as it is. My feet are swelling, my legs hurt, I am tired. Somewhere along 35th Street, I just stop hurting completely, it just lifts. I still have 4 miles to go and the hills. I pretend that it's just one of our morning runs when we roll over these hills for a 7 miler. I pretend that I have not just run 18.

I have NEVER felt this strong at the end of a run this long. I realize that this can be a really elusive feeling. I realize I should not get too excited or proud. But, truly, in my lifetime, this is only my 3rd run of 22 miles. Really.

Now, mentally, I have smashed the barrier. During Boston, I can recall this feeling, knowing that I have the capacity and it is possible.

LB tells me my number for Boston at the start of our run. It's even. I feel the card magically going in reverse, the pieces coming back together and reattaching to my mirror at home!

Four weeks to go!