Posts Tagged: training

Pale September.

I feel like my blog posts have been lacking lately, but that’s okay because you can’t be “on” all the time. Today, I had my very last run of the training season, and it was a relatively decent 6-miler. I went out to breakfast afterward with one of my running friends, and totally ruined any calorie loss I might have achieved by ordering cinnamon roll pancakes with bacon on top. They were delicious, by the way. Afterward, I took a nap on and off, and in between naps, attempted to contact a friend. Except his phone was going to straight… I’m not done yet.

I’m Starting to Freak Out…

Not in the way most people would, I don’t think. The marathon is about 10 days away. A week and a half. And I haven’t had the panicked dreams. Really, my dreams are fucked up enough that I don’t need to dream about this, too. I just want it to go smoothly. I want to do well. I want to finish before the buzzer. Is there a buzzer? I DON’T KNOW. I’m thinking about doing more yoga; last night I did a yoga class which clearly demonstrated to me that – even when I think my muscles are doing well… I’m not done yet.

Time.

I have about 10 minutes before I should be in bed. About 6-7 hours before I need to be up for work. 2 weeks before the marathon. 6 weeks of physical therapy ahead of me. I keep living in the future, holding onto the past, getting wrapped up in the intense emotions of my present.

I Have A Cankle and Other Stories.

Ok, maybe not stories. Just maybe little tidbits related to this one BIG BIT OF NEWS. All day today, I’ve been feeling like shit. Actually, I’ve been feeling insurmountably tired for the past couple of days, and today, it really got to me. I spent 5 hours of an eight point five hour workday saying, “I don’t feel good,” and the other 3.5 hours thinking, “I really don’t feel good.” Of course, there are always things to do: Today, for example, I left work, got keys made, bought things for my office, came back home intending to take a nap… I’m not done yet.

20 Miles: A Retrospective.

Upon reflecting about yesterday’s 20-miler, I became increasingly concerned that I would not finish the marathon in the time allotted. I asked my dad, who ran the marathon sometime in the late 80s, if I would still get a medal if I was not an official finisher. He said he wasn’t sure, but what mattered was that I ran it, not that I got a medal. I explained that that was all well and fine and everything, but… if I was running the damn thing, I wanted a medal. He said something to the effect that the medal wasn’t important,… I’m not done yet.