When I was a kid my mom used to say this line from "The Princess Bride", "and there'a you go, backa to the beginning." She always used to say it when we did something that intentionally or not sent us back to square one. I hate going back to square one, but somehow it makes you better and more adept for the next time you encounter a similar problem. Today was the beginning. It almost felt like I had never run before. Not in that it hurt or that I was sore, but in that it was almost unfamiliar. And it's only been a month and a half! I kept thinking, 'this is a bit odd, what I am doing right now, leg up down, these movements feel weird.' But let me NOT blow this out of proportion. I only ran 2 miles. I will not say how long it took me because I went way too fast on the first mile adjusting immediately into my former road race pace and then having to re-adjust for the second mile into a slower pace. The slower pace wasn't so bad, just annoying. But as my mom likes to remind me, going slow is better than having a broken leg. Joy. Anyway I should not be negative in this post because this is a post about doing my favorite thing in the world.
The run was very therapeutic for my brain. The cold was equally as therapeutic for my body. I could feel the crisp bite of the cold wind in my face. I love that feeling. I recently was chastising a friend of mine for playing soccer, in this freezing weather, in shorts and a t-shirt. Well I guess now I can’t talk because I really love that cold winter slapping me in the face. It motivates me to move faster and push harder through a tough spot. The wind is my best ally, even when it’s against me. It’s always playing and pushing me. Asking me to give a little more and taking everything that I have and throwing it back in my face. But it is beautiful. It’s beautiful in the same way the branches on the trees are beautiful as the glisten in the cold sun light. There is this soft hue on everything, the grass, the snow piled on the side of the road, my sneakers, the rooftops. It makes everything look soft and extremely foreign. I love running in weather/temperature extremes. The middle of the heat of the summer and the cold frost of the winter are the best times to learn the limits of your body. There is a point in the summers when my stomach cramps so bad because of the heat, I throw up the little amount of fluids I have. And then there are moments in the winter where my legs are searing with pain because instead of warming they just keep freezing up with the wind. I guess my body betrays me, but I will never give this up. I will never leave this. The feeling of full exertion and pushing past your mind’s boundaries is just incredible.
As a run usually is for me, I thoroughly enjoyed it. Though for the first time in a long time I began to think a lot during the run. I spent a lot of time trying to rationalize why I want to run 50 miles. I have only told two people out loud that I am doing this. I hesitate to tell people about this dream for two reasons:
1. One is that 99% of the time I get the “are you insane?” reaction. Many people immediately think I have some kind of weird eating/exercise disorder. Let’s clear that up right now. I love eating and food in general. Though I have struggled with weight issues throughout my life, I have never been repulsed by food or myself while eating. Like most women, I have an imperfect view of my body and myself, but I deal with it. I am not running 50 miles to loose weight. I already am tiny enough; I don’t need to be any more so. In fact, I spent most of my time trying to gain weight! So take that haters.
2. People assume that there is something off with me mentally that makes me want to try something that seems impossible to them. I have got a lot of negative feedback regarding running this kind of distance. People often feel the need to lecture me about my past injuries, my recently fractured (and now healed) tibia, shin splints, ruined feet, etc., etc. They also seem to think the idea is just plain stupid. Well I challenge that thought. For me running has never been about anyone but me. It is the one thing in my life that is completely and solely mine. It is there for me and me only. I run comfortably, at my own pace, in my own way. I run as far or as long as I want. As far as I know my running has never hurt anyone else. SO then why is it a problem if I want to run 50 miles? Or 100 miles? Or do adventure and stage races? Maybe others just perceive these desires as a threat to their comfort zones and that makes them feel inferior. Well that’s stupid. This is for ME.
I am in awe of this distance. While one might use the word “fear” to describe the growing anticipation and sore sickness in my belly when I think of running for almost 13 hours straight, but I use the word excitement. My dad has spent much of my life repeating to me the phrase “feel the fear and do it anyway.” That seems to be my motto lately, for running and life. I feel the pressure and tenseness of this distance, but I accept and embrace it. I love it. Endurance and distance running are a beautiful, under appreciated sport. People write of endurance athletes off as whackos, but they are so much stronger mentally and physically than 90% of the people in the world. I want to gain that strength. I want to be stronger emotionally, physically, mentally, and spiritually. And for me that path is 50 miles long and a little less than 11 months away.
There’s no turning back now…
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