Maybe Next Year

In approximately half an hour, lots of people will be sitting at their computers registering for the Marine Corps Marathon.

After much arguing amongst the voices in my head, I will not be one of them.

I’m so disappointed in myself for not being any further along than I am. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and I told myself that I would make the decision based on how I was doing when registration opened. Well, it’s opening today, and it’s just completely out of the question. It was 90 degrees here yesterday, and I STRUGGLED to get through five measley miles. It was better than last week, but still not good. The marathon is in October, so that would mean that I would be doing long runs in August and September–when 90 is considered “warm”. I just really and truly don’t believe I can hack it.

And I have to wonder if I ever will be able to. I’ve said all along that trying to train myself to be a runner is like trying to train my cat to be a dog.

What do you guys honestly think? I know lots of you have been very encouraging with all your “If I can, you can!” talk, and I really appreciate that. But I still wonder if that’s really true. If we’re all different on the outside, isn’t the same true for our muscles and hearts and lungs? Some people are predisposed to be awesome runners. I’m not that lucky. I may WANT to be a runner but I’m not. And training and will power can only change so much. I may WANT green eyes instead of blue, too, but I can’t will that to change either.


A Week of Disappointments

I never should have cut my run short Wednesday. That half-mile was the FLICK of the first domino that set into motion the domino effect that lead to two more crappy runs to finish the week out.

I didn’t stop the timer on my Garmin when I stopped running Wednesday, so it included my drive home on my run. I have my lap length set at one-mile intervals, so I know what my time was at 4 miles, and I was playing with it after I got home, looking at my splits and such trying to figure out what time I was at 4.5 miles (Yes, I’m a math and statistics nerd–what of it?) and apparently I forgot to turn the damn thing off before I stuck it back in the drawer.

Did I realize this before I was set for my next run? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, of COURSE not. Friday after work I had driven back up to Volunteer Dr. (That’s the road uptown where I start when I want lots and lots of hills.) and was standing outside my car in the Lowe’s parking lot stretching a bit. I turned on the Garmin only to be met with a message telling me the batteries were low. So while I was supposed to do five miles again that night I didn’t. Like I said, I’m a statistics nerd. I can’t run just for the sake of running. If I’m running, I want to know how far I’m going and how fast I’m getting there. Since I didn’t know exactly where five miles would be on that route, I cut it back to three because I’ve done a three-mile route from that starting point so many times that I knew exactly where I had to turn around for an even three. I know it’s just three miles, but those are three TOUGH miles. There are hills on that route that are difficult to WALK up, much less run. I’m always exhausted afterwards. So yes, it was a short run, but it was still a challenging run. I was just disappointed I didn’t get in my five-miler.

But the biggest disappointment was the weekend’s “long” run. The schedule this weekend has been a bit hectic, and while I was planning on letting the legs rest Saturday and running Sunday, that didn’t happen. My schedule was shifted yet again, and by Saturday morning I knew that if I was going to get a long run in this weekend I’d better do it right then. The problem was that I just wasn’t prepared. I know 10 miles to most of you is nothing, but it’s still a long run for me and requires a little preparation. I hadn’t eaten much of anything Friday night, had a few beers, stayed up late… all those things not conducive to a successful run the following day. So it turned out much like you would expect. I slogged through a shitty seven miles and was ultimately in tears before calling it my third fail for the week and walking back home.

I guess I was due for a bad week. I had too many good runs in a row. But, please, whoever stole my mojo (I think it was Julie!!!), please see that it is returned to me unharmed and SOON!

Ooooh yeah. I remember this.

I got in my car yesterday afternoon after my run and this is what I saw:


No friends, you haven’t just spontaneously formed a severe case of dyslexia. That number is for reals eighty-two–NOT the twenty-eight that I have become all too accustomed to seeing this winter. (You’re not dyslexic, but you are hallucinating. The dust you see in the picture is just a figment of your imagination. My car is spotless. No dust or dog hair whatsoever. Not even a dirty paw print on the black leather seat.)

I almost forgot what it was like to run in the heat. The sweat-inducing, clothes-drenching, hair-kinking, lung-squeezing, pace-destroying heat.

I set out to do five miles, but at the 4.5-mile mark I was oh-so-conveniently about 100 yards from my car, and I could hear my Gatorade calling my name, sitting there in the driver’s seat waiting for me. Who am I to keep a cold plastic bottle waiting? So I cut the five miles just a tad short.

What???? It was just a half mile!!!! GET OFF MY ASS!!!

Aaaaaaaahhhh, spring. 🙂