So, obviously I am incapable of regular blogging. And that's ok with me. So I'll just poke my head in whenever the urge strikes and call it good enough.
Which is remarkably similar to my running right now. And that is less ok with me, but it'll have to do.
Back in June, I finished Grandma's marathon. It was my 5th running and my 4th finish of this particular race, which has come to mean so much to me in so many ways. It was also my last running of it for the foreseeable future. And my second full marathon with my sister by my side.
My experience in Duluth this year was a mixed bag. I had an absolutely wonderful weekend with my sister and my friends, and my parents came to watch us run. The Duluth weather for everything but the race was absolutely spectacular. We spent the day before the race tooling around town and visiting places we haven't seen in years and marveling at how some things were so different and some looked the same. The weekend was fab.
The race? Notsomuch.
Backing up a bit, I strained my left calf a couple weeks before race day. I ran the weekend before, and it loosened up as I ran, so I was hopeful for an ok race. That was just not to be. Race morning dawned, we made the trek up the shore of Lake Superior to Two Harbors. We got off the bus, used brand new pottties, got situated in the corrals and watched the elites warm up. We got to meet Eric before the start, who doesn't even know that he's been my idol for years. We didn't make the video, but it was cool all the same - he's like a celebrity.
And then it rained. For the 40 or so minutes before we started, we stood in a freaking downpour. We laughed, because what else can you do. I mean, the buses all left, so the only way back to Duluth was to run.
Or walk, as it were.
I ran maybe 11, but never felt good. I run/walked a few more.
And then I pretty much walked the rest.
Sure, there were moments of limp shuffling. But it was mostly walking. And it was fucking miserable. So much that I broke down crying SEVERAL TIMES during the last half. If I were a smarter woman, I'd have bailed. But I am stubborn, and my sister was by my side, and fuck it, I wanted my shirt and medal. It was a PW, but it was a victory that I crossed the line. I don't think I've done anything tougher. Ever.
So this summer, I've been injured. I run here and there, but it took a LONG time to heal. And it's still not 100%, although it's MUCH improved from where it was in late June. And I am signed up for the Twin Cities marathon in October. And I am NOT running it.
And I am ok.
While not marathon training stings a bit, watching my friends complete long run after long run and missing that burn and the sense of accomplishment and the camaraderie, it's been rather lovely to spend this summer with my family, and swim and sleep in and hug and BE. I know I'll run again, so for now, it is enough.
In 2012, I ran and ran. Nearly 1500 miles. And I PR'd nearly every distance. And I was proud.
But I have a life outside of running, and that level of dedication is not realistic for me year after year. And it isn't fair to my family. I appreciate how much they all support me, but sometimes I have to give a little too.
And this year was a good year to do that.
But I'll be back again at it - it's part of me now, and there's no excising that part. It'll wait.
