•7:32 PM
This morning, when the eastern sky was still as dark as coal, I stepped out into the frigid New England air and headed to my warm & cozy 2nd home: my gym, for yet another morning run …
It’s hard to believe that there are just nine weeks until my third marathon … the mother of all marathons … the Boston Marathon. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that I’m going back for another 26.2 miles of torture fun, and even harder to believe that I’m doing the Boston Marathon, complete with the Wellesley “Sreaming Tunnel” Newton Hills, and the finish line on Boylston. That’s what I was thinking as I started my jog on the treadmill. I hit my two-mile marker in 19 minutes, way too fast for this run, and slowed my pace – lots of miles to go before I’d complete this workout. Still, with warmth of the indoor gym, the comfort of the overhead fans blowing, and the Black Eyed Peas blasting away on my Ipod I was feeling good.
The Boston Marathon doesn’t start on race day morning, Monday, April 19th: it starts with the hundreds of miles in preparation. For me, it starts with these early, winter treadmill runs. It starts with putting on my shoes and putting in the miles. It starts with stretches, workouts, strength training, adequate hydration, complex carbs, and lots of sweat. Marathons are more than 26.2 miles – they’re full of the work to get to the last two-tenths of a mile.
I often wonder how I ever got to this decision. What made me want to get out of bed and run? I’ve never been a runner, I know … and while I have an affinity for working out in general, I have always gravitated to more “graceful” activities like dance and pilates. When I rowed for my college crew team I always hated the running drills. Now here I am, almost 33, and doing something absolutely nuts by many standards.
The reason I run isn’t for the applause of strangers, the thrill of a medal around my neck (okay, so maybe the medal has a little something to do with it!) , or even bragging rights for my friends and family. The reason I run is to prove to myself that I can do this and much more. When I decided to run a half-marathon the idea seemed impossible, and then I did it. But could I run a whole marathon? That idea at first seemed quite silly, and possibly dangerous. And then I did it. And then did it again – in a Noreaster. And now I’m doing another and the notion doesn’t seem silly at all. If I can run a marathon, as crazy as that sounded to me once, then I’m certain I can do much, much more.
With just three miles left in my morning trek on the neverending rubber belt, I take a big swig of water from my latest & greatest love: my funky red Sigg aluminum water bottle. After a few more swigs I dump the water over my head and am refreshed to finish the run.
Finish. It’s a good word, a good feeling, and a goal for any runner. In just a few weeks I’ll be finishing what I started, but no celebrations yet. There are still lots of miles ahead of me and loads of determination behind me.
It’s hard to believe that there are just nine weeks until my third marathon … the mother of all marathons … the Boston Marathon. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that I’m going back for another 26.2 miles of torture fun, and even harder to believe that I’m doing the Boston Marathon, complete with the Wellesley “Sreaming Tunnel” Newton Hills, and the finish line on Boylston. That’s what I was thinking as I started my jog on the treadmill. I hit my two-mile marker in 19 minutes, way too fast for this run, and slowed my pace – lots of miles to go before I’d complete this workout. Still, with warmth of the indoor gym, the comfort of the overhead fans blowing, and the Black Eyed Peas blasting away on my Ipod I was feeling good.
The Boston Marathon doesn’t start on race day morning, Monday, April 19th: it starts with the hundreds of miles in preparation. For me, it starts with these early, winter treadmill runs. It starts with putting on my shoes and putting in the miles. It starts with stretches, workouts, strength training, adequate hydration, complex carbs, and lots of sweat. Marathons are more than 26.2 miles – they’re full of the work to get to the last two-tenths of a mile.
I often wonder how I ever got to this decision. What made me want to get out of bed and run? I’ve never been a runner, I know … and while I have an affinity for working out in general, I have always gravitated to more “graceful” activities like dance and pilates. When I rowed for my college crew team I always hated the running drills. Now here I am, almost 33, and doing something absolutely nuts by many standards.
The reason I run isn’t for the applause of strangers, the thrill of a medal around my neck (okay, so maybe the medal has a little something to do with it!) , or even bragging rights for my friends and family. The reason I run is to prove to myself that I can do this and much more. When I decided to run a half-marathon the idea seemed impossible, and then I did it. But could I run a whole marathon? That idea at first seemed quite silly, and possibly dangerous. And then I did it. And then did it again – in a Noreaster. And now I’m doing another and the notion doesn’t seem silly at all. If I can run a marathon, as crazy as that sounded to me once, then I’m certain I can do much, much more.
With just three miles left in my morning trek on the neverending rubber belt, I take a big swig of water from my latest & greatest love: my funky red Sigg aluminum water bottle. After a few more swigs I dump the water over my head and am refreshed to finish the run.
Finish. It’s a good word, a good feeling, and a goal for any runner. In just a few weeks I’ll be finishing what I started, but no celebrations yet. There are still lots of miles ahead of me and loads of determination behind me.
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